


Life is in the Details

by kuhekabir



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:25:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuhekabir/pseuds/kuhekabir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No, he doesn't feel particularly grateful for being rescued by Steve. Bucky isn't a damsel in distress, thank you very much.</p><p>Getting kidnapped by Thor, and taken to Asgard, didn't make Bucky happy either. Getting fussed over by them, and treated like a long-lost family member, was, however, beyond alarming.</p><p>Has everyone gone insane?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have never even considered writing a story from Bucky's point of view. Then this happened.
> 
> This story is set after Iron Man 3, the Avengers, and after Thor 2 - The Dark World. If you have managed not to see any of those movies, then please consider SPOILER ALERT. 
> 
> There is some drug use in this story (which in real life I don't tolerate at all!) plus dub-con.
> 
> I am not really familiar with the comics, so I am labeling this story as AU. I hope you will enjoy it.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and his head was ringing. Oh wait, that rhymed! He smiled to himself. Hopefully today was going to shape up being good. Meeting with his regular dealer usually ended with him smiling like a loon anyway, but there was something to be said for being happy the natural way.

A part of him wasn't thrilled with his new habit, but why should he spend precious energy worrying about it? It wasn't as if he could get addicted! He usually only achieved a mediocre degree of high before his system brunt away all traces of the drug. He didn't have much else in his life to look forward to. If that made him pathetic, so what?

When his memory returned, so had his conscience. Some might've called that a win, but he wasn't so sure. Actually caring about people did make it quite hard to hire out as a mercenary. And he simply didn't have the energy left to vet al his offers so he only accepts jobs which wouldn't leave him reeling with guilt afterwards. Besides, wasn't there supposed to be more to life than simply killing? Hadn't he once upon a time enjoyed the ladies, the drink, the good times?

But he wasn't the same person any more, memories or not. He was a cold-blooded killer, even if he hadn't been mentally present over the last decades when his body had pulled the trigger. Hell, even thinking about the whole dilemma gave him a headache.

It all changed about a year ago. One moment life had been easy, and then he'd woken up on a beach in Florida with his life in shambles. Contrary to what one might think, knowing who he was hadn't made life easier. If anything, it had made it harder.

He now had to sort through two different sets of people in his mind. There was his old self, before he fell and became the Winter Soldier, and then there was...the Soldier.

Both were him, he couldn't deny it, but both also weren't. Was it any wonder he sought a moment's peace in drugs? He was certain a shrink would have a very special name for his disorder, but he'd rather not find out. Wasn't as if he had anyone to talk to anyway. 

_Steve_ , his mind helpfully supplied.

He was still reeling from the shock of finding out Steve was actually alive. And for a few precious seconds, he'd actually considered going to him. Then, something he liked to call reality, had caught up with him, and he'd decided against it. Steve Rogers, Captain America and hero, he wouldn't look twice at him now. Not with what his former best friend had become. No, better not to open up other wounds, better let Steve morn the friend he'd lost than to have him find out what he'd become.

He hummed, not feeling the least bit guilty about procuring drugs. He could practically see it…his special lazy afternoon, lost in a haze, drifting in nirvana. His changed metabolism was about the only good thing that had happened to him in the war. He couldn't be sure, but he was certain it was also the reason why he had survived the fall and being frozen countless times. After all, hadn't Steve managed to survive as an icicle for decades? Must have something to do with the serum, right? And if he had ended up with some reduced version of it...well, it might explain a few things.

Questions he had a lot, answers not so much. But he honestly wasn't crazy, or desperate enough, to actually seek solutions to them. Letting sleeping dogs lie and all that shite.

A swift moving shadow caught his attention. What most people would just ignore, or write off as something imaginary moving just out of sight, he felt compelled to investigate. His body tensed as his senses sharpened. He stopped, tilting his head sideways, listening. At first, nothing out of the ordinary could be heard. Then, there was an odd scraping sound, followed by a clacking of a window closing. The sound was barely audible, but he wasn't an ordinary human being. Hell, on some days he even doubted he had any humanity left! However, he didn't indulge those notions for long since his self-flagellation always showed him he wasn't totally a lost cause. No one did guilt like humans.

He moved cautiously across the otherwise empty street. No one but homeless people, criminals, and the odd lost dog, lived in this part of town. This meant he could move quickly, and stealthily, since he didn't have to worry about drawing attention from pedestrians. Still, there was no advantage without a downside, and getting shot in the face for not being careful enough would be very bad indeed.

He flattened himself to the wall, peaking around it. He scanned the area, looking for any hint that someone was on the lookout. He couldn't see anything mechanical or human, so he swiftly moved across the open space.

His slim, lithe body had come in handy countless times, but never so much as when scaling up a wall by using any means possible. Growing up in Brooklyn, he could've never imagined to actually liking climbing. During his ruthless training, likes and dislikes had never figured in, but now? Now he could freely admit to actually liking the sport. There was something to be said about the challenge, the rush of adrenalin, while knowing the only thing standing between you and the abyss was your own skill.

Once he reached the top window, he eased it open. Breaking it would've made too much noise, but, thankfully, these abandoned buildings had never really been secured properly. Or if they had been at one time, countless homeless people looking for shelter had changed it.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it either why the odd sound had caught his attention. Might be nothing nefarious was going on, could simply be someone looking for shelter. And even if something illegal was going down, since when was it his job to police the streets? He couldn't quite shake the nagging at the back of his skull though which edged him on. If he'd learned anything in his stupid life, then it was to follow his gut instinct. And that instinct was telling him to move. So he did. 

Either way, when he was inside, he carefully moved across the floor towards the open door. This must've been an office of some sort a while back, because it led out onto a balcony of sorts. The metal railing didn't provide much in the way of protection, but the column did. Plus, it wasn't as if anyone was expecting him. Still, he might've come to love the thrill of danger, but that didn't mean he had started to act the fool. Despite everything, he rather valued his life, or what was left of it.

It was better than nothing, right?

He didn't focus on the usual meet and greet of people up to no good downstairs. He'd seen countless exchanges to know the drill. What did catch his attention was the slim form moving in the shadows. The curves were familiar, even if she would cut his head off if she ever found out he'd been admiring her trim figure. For someone as stunning as she was, she didn't seem to take too kindly to actually being stared at. He sometimes wondered if the codename Black Widow had induced this trait in her or if it had been the other way around.

Suddenly, an arrow sailed through the air, firmly hitting one of the goons in the chest. He went down without some much a sound. Seconds later, the next followed. Natasha moved into the fight, swiftly taking out anyone who dared to cross her pass.

They seemed to have everything under control. No reason for him to stick around, and potentially draw attention to himself. Following Natasha in the first place, even when he'd just suspected it might've been her, had been foolish in the extreme.

He turned, about to slink away the same way he had entered, when the game changed. Natasha and the mysterious guy shooting arrows were no longer attacking. Suddenly, they were outnumbered. Had this been a trap set specifically for them?

Without thinking twice about it, he flung himself over the railing. He landed in a crouch, ready to fight instantly. Hand to hand combat, in his opinion, was the most satisfying form of a fight since it required actual physical contact. Anyone with half a decent eye could shoot someone from a distance, and nowadays any idiot could find ways on how to make a bomb online. Killing someone with bare hands still required skill and training. So what if he took pride in the, admittedly, somewhat questionable skill? It wasn't as if his life was brimming with many things to be proud of.

With a swift move he disabled the guy trying to sneak up on Natasha from behind. When she turned, ready to attack him, she faltered for a few seconds. It was a credit to her skill that she didn't let her surprise get the better of her. With a swift nod to acknowledge his presence, she accepted his aid. They fell into an easy rhythm, their fighting styles similar in their grace and deadliness.

"Look out!" He yelled when someone fired a gun right at her. He pushed her to the side, causing her to land somewhat less gracefully on all fours. The sharp impact in his shoulder knocked all his breath from his lungs. It wasn't his first time getting shot, but he'd be dammed if he ever got used to the feeling.

He glanced around, judging his help was no longer needed. Natasha and her partner seemed to have everything under control now. Clearly the bad guys hadn't anticipated to be fighting three trained assassins.

A little bit unsteady on his feet, he hurried towards the exit. He'd achieved his goal, repaid his debt. There was no point to linger. Once outside, he took a moment to take a deep breath. If he wanted to avoid Natasha coming after him he needed to hurry. He really wasn't in the mood for a longish game of search and evade.

The sunlight blinded him for a second, causing him to stop.

"James!" Natasha shouted after him. He tuned her out.

He must've been in much more of a shock than he'd realized because when the next impact hit him from the side, he hadn't seen it coming. He stumbled, his reflexes kicking in immediately. He and his attacker stumbled, moving further and further away from the building and towards the edge.

This side of the warehouse bordered directly on the marina. Maybe in the past cargo had been transported here by sea and by land. Either way, James was aware of the danger the water presented.

Blinding pain exploded in his head, momentarily blinding him. Next thing he knew, the cold water embraced him, presenting his body with yet another kind of shock. He went limb, unable to act for a few seconds.

He sank deeper and deeper until his strained lungs finally convinced him to act. Sluggishly he swam towards where he supposed the surface was. He kicked his legs with as much force as he could muster so he wouldn't actually resurface where he had gone under. He might be feeling a bit strange at the moment, but decades worth of training didn't just vanish because his higher brain functions were called into question.

When he finally broke through the water, he was a great distance from where he'd fallen in. Since he knew Natasha could handle whatever was left, he kept going, aiming for the nearest shore. With more strength than he thought he still had, he heaved himself out of the water and onto the stone ground. He crawled towards a lamp post, wanting to prop himself up against it so he could catch his breath.

Darkness engulfed him before he got even close.

##

Hands on his skin, fumbling for his pulse point.

There was a relieved exhale, a sound which shouldn't be so familiar, and yet it was.

"James?"

He managed to open his eyes a little bit, squinting up into the face of a beautiful woman. "Nat…" he managed to mumble before he passed out again.

##

Awareness flooded through him, shaking him awake. Adrenalin followed, forcing his muscles to react long before he was consciously aware of what was happening.

"Easy there," the soothing voice eased his tension somewhat. Had he really gone so soft that a familiar voice would lull him into some sort of fake security? Hell no!

He forced his eyes open. Natasha sat in front of him, perched perfectly on a small chair. She stared at him with her famous blank expression, which could only mean one thing: he was in the dog house, and likely to remain there for the foreseeable future.

He quickly took stock of his injuries. The gunshot wound had been cleaned and expertly bandaged. The dull ache in his head told him his concussion from the blow to the back of his head was still a thing to be pissed off about.

"It really is you," Natasha observed somewhat needlessly.

"How long have you been staring at me?" He asked as he managed to get upright. He favored his left side a bit but despite his best efforts, he wasn't going to fool Natasha into thinking he wasn't currently under the weather.

"Long enough," she answered. Her eyes narrowed. "You are different. You aren't the Winter Soldier anymore who showed me kindness. That man would've never risked his own life to come to my aid."

Bucky shrugged, regretting the move immediately. He winced. Should he tell her? He risked another look at her. From the way she tilted her head, silently urging him on to try and be difficult, he decided better not to go down that route.

"I don't know what happened," he started. His eyes clouded over as he dredged up the necessary memory. "One moment everything was so clear," he couldn't quite help the wistfulness sneaking into this voice. He didn't miss being a mindless killer, but, sometimes, the clarity of those missions was something he envied his other self for.

"I was on a mission, everything was going according to plan," his voice faltered for a few seconds before he found the strength to continue. "Then I woke up on a beach somewhere in Florida. With my arm as good as new."

He shuddered. The metal arm wasn't something he missed. Still, he wouldn't mind knowing how he had ended up with a perfectly healthy limb.

"My memories were intact too. I knew who I was. I still remember my time as the Winter Soldier, but now I also know who I am, or was. Needless to say I had a moment of panic. I hid out somewhere in Glades for a while, wondering if someone would come looking for me. When nothing happened, when my new arm didn't suddenly turn green or turn into tentacles, I started moving north. Eventually I ended up back here. Guess I wanted to come home."

"You are from New York then?" she asked. "Considering they called you James, I always suspected you were American. Your Russian is good, but I noticed you swore occasionally in English."

"Brooklyn as a matter of face," Bucky gave her his best cheeky grin. He used his good arm to give her a mock salute. "James Buchanan Barnes at your service."

After a few seconds, she said something he should've been prepared for, and yet still hadn't seen coming. "You're Steve's friend."

"Don't tell him," he immediately urged her. He leaned a little bit forward, giving her his best puppy dog look. He hadn't practiced it in ages, but Steve had always told him it was his most formidable weapon. "I wanted to check up on him as soon as I heard Captain America was alive and active again, but I don't want to meet him."

"James…"

"Bucky," he injected. "I don't really go by James."

"Bucky," she amended. "I know what it is like to break free. But I also know what it means to find friends. Steve is your friend. Don't you want to let him know he doesn't need to grief your death anymore?"

"And tell him I killed dozens of innocents for the Russians at the same time?" Bucky declared. "I don't think so." Something in his tone must've clued Natasha in on this being his final decision.

"All right," she accepted his decision. Of course, it was never this easy with her. He really should've known. "I won't tell SHIELD you're alive, I won't tell Steve either, if you allow me to come and visit you. I want to know where you live."

Bucky shook his head.

"I insist," she declared.

With a heavy sigh he finally gave her a curt nod. There was no use in arguing with her. And he didn't really mind her stopping by. Sure, she would try to change his mind, she would try to get him to come in willingly. But her word guaranteed him she wouldn't force the issue, so it was all good to him.

"Where are we anyway?" he asked, looking around.

"Some motel room," she declared. "You fit to go?"

"Sure," he acquiesced.

"Good. I'll get us a car."

##

Over the coming weeks, Natasha stopped by every other day or so. She never outright asked him to come with her, but there was no doubt on his mind that she was subtly trying to manipulate him. How could he tell? Because he caught himself thinking it might not be so bad after all if he got his old life back, if he told Steve he was still alive. Hell, there were times when he honestly caught himself thinking about coming in, allowing SHIELD to know he was in town. With Natasha's support surely they wouldn't lock him up and throw away the key?

He couldn't help but snort at his own stupidity every time he caught himself thinking about it. Still, it was a testament to how good this woman was to actually get him to consider it. He could think about it though until hell froze over because he was never willingly going to take that step.

As Bucky Barnes from years ago he might've put his trust into a government organization, but he knew better now. Even if they didn't just kill him or imprison him for the crimes he had committed, his freedom would be over.

And Steve? Bucky was honest enough with himself that it would kill him if his friend would look at him with pity, with disgust for all the things he'd done. Sure, Steve would claim to forgive him, happy to have him back, but there would be looks, there would be distrust, and that wasn't something Bucky would be able to handle.

The memory of his best friend was enough to warm his heart on cold days. There was no point to break open old wounds. Steve shouldn't have to mourn him twice. Wasn't once bad enough?

With his back to the window, he glared at the Black Widow. "I don't care if Steve is melodramatic this time of the year. I'm not going to tell him I'm alive. He's better off without me."

Natasha gave him a glare which would've wilted any lesser man. Thankfully, he had had enough practice with being on the receiving end of it. It did affect him, but he wasn't quaking in his boots. Besides, he had his own reputation to consider. The Winter Soldier, while a mindless drone, was a bad ass kind of guy. And Bucky Barnes wasn't so shabby either. No, he couldn't let any weakness show.

Before Natasha could reply, her eyes left his face. They widened slightly. 

Bucky turned, already alarmed. It was rare for her to show so much emotion, which could only mean she'd seen something downright nasty.

Against the backdrop of the dark sky, futuristic looking space crafts were shooting laser beams at building and probably at people.

"Are you seeing this too?" he asked because he couldn't quite believe his own eyes. He resisted the urge to lift a hand to rub the vision away. He hadn't suddenly stepped into some rubbish scifi movie, right?

Seconds later Natasha's cell phone rang. He didn't need to listen to the conversation to know she'd been called back to active duty as an Avenger.

Without thinking about it, Bucky grabbed his gun, strapping it to his leg. It might be old fashioned, making him look more like a cowboy than anything else, but it worked. He inched closer to this window, opening it.

The space crafts weren't big, and they seemed to mostly manned by two aliens. There was no cover, so the one shooting at people was totally exposed. So was the navigator. The crafts looked more like flying platforms than anything else. When one approached close enough, Bucky didn't even think twice about.

He took a few steps back before breaking into a run.

"Bucky!" Natasha yelled his name. He ignored her. Sailing through the air without any protection might've scared a lesser person but he didn't even blink. The aliens didn't stand a chance.

Seconds after landing on one of the crafts, he was in charge of it. Let the fight begin! He hadn’t quite realized how much he'd been itching to kill something until now. And surely no one would pull a face at killing aliens who were busy attacking New York, right?

##

The speed forced him to blink rapidly, trying to protect his eyes from wind and debris. The darkness of the night didn't make it any easier to see, but he was more an instinctive kind of guy anyway. When he realized there was no way he could figure out how to fire the gun, he quickly navigated the craft towards where people were fighting on the ground.

All thoughts of keeping his identity a secret had vanished. There were more important things at stake. Besides, there was a good chance everyone would be so caught up in the novelty of aliens that they wouldn't stop to look too closely at him.

He aimed the craft towards another before jumping to the ground. He rolled over his left shoulder to lessen the impact. Behind him, the impact of the two crafts caused debris to fly left and right. Two crafts down, a zillion to go. 

He didn't pause once he got back onto his feet. He ran towards the next best alien. On closer inspection they looked like overgrown bees. He'd never liked them much to begin with, so he wasn't too bothered with killing them now.

Besides, live and let live was a good motto, but it only worked if both sides adhered to it.

He procured a wicked looing knife, more like a machete, from somewhere. It made cutting the enemy down, quite literally, very easy. With an evil smile on the face, he allowed himself to enjoy the action.

When he got a moment of relief, he took it to steady his breathing. Currently no one was around him, but the quiet probably wasn’t going to last for long. His eyes searched the crowd. He wasn't really looking for someone, at least not consciously, when he spotted Steve fighting two aliens at once. He was a beauty to behold, all golden and righteous, even when covered in mud, debris and alien guts.

Bucky's heart clenched, making him swallowing hard.

He threw himself back into the fight without another glance backwards. Steve would be fine. He was an excellent soldier plus he got the serum working for him. Whatever Bucky had gotten must've been a modified version because it hadn't turned him into a second Steve, or a monster, but it had given him endurance and healing abilities beyond any human. Still, eventually even he would tire.

Without him knowing the fight took him closer to his friend. They stood, back to back, falling back into an easy rhythm without either one of them noticing. When one swift kick brought them face to face, it wasn't just Steve who froze. Wide blue eyes stared at Bucky as if he was the second coming.

"Bucky?" Steve's voice was barely above a whisper, as if he didn't trust himself, as if he was afraid that making any kind of sound would make Bucky disappear like a Fata Morgana.

"Steve," he whispered right back, unable to come up with any other response. Their eyes locked, the rest of the world falling away. They might've remained frozen for eternity, if a nearby explosion hadn't broken the spell.

Bucky turned, running away as quickly as he could. It felt odd to feel even the remotest sense of gratitude when more aliens converged on Steve, effectively blocking him from chasing after him. He took out his momentary lapse of humanity by killing a few more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a dub-con scene in this chapter. Nothing too drastic, but it is still there...

He dragged himself home with heavy feet. He wasn't injured, just bone weary. The fight had lasted longer than any other he could recall, but they had been victorious in the end. Nothing like fighting for the survival of the planet to get the blood pumping, eh? Losing just hadn’t been an option. Plus, what was it about New York that acted like catnip to aliens? Maybe he should consider moving…but nah, not an option. He wasn’t a coward.

The stupid, nagging voice in the back of his head, the one which suspiciously sounded a lot like Steve, kept telling him there might be yet another reason why he'd chosen to stay. _You also want to be closer to Steve. Admit it!_

Maybe he'd already gone insane and just missed the memo on it. He forcefully shook his head, deciding not to listen to anything the voices in his head had to say. That thought drew him up short for a few seconds, because really…voices in his head?

He straightened up, putting the whole craziness behind him. He had more important things to worry about right now. Like how to avoid Steve finding him. Natasha wasn’t going to tell him where he lived, not right away anyway. She could be trusted, at least for today. But tomorrow? He might have to find a new place to live, renegotiate with Natasha, because he doubted he would get away without starting a man hunt if he just up and left without telling her.

Maybe he could get Nat to convince Steve he'd been exposed to some alien mushrooms, making him hallucinate the whole encounter? Well, hope sprung eternal, wasn’t that how it went? He snorted.

Either way, what he needed right now was a good shower and some sleep. Pondering life altering questions could wait until the morning.

Once he was in his shabby apartment, he undressed quickly, not caring about where his clothes landed. He'd never been the one to be neat. Back in the day, it had been up to Steve to make sure their place wasn’t overrun with piles of clothes. He still wouldn’t call himself slobby, he just had different priorities.

After a quick shower, he only dressed in some loose fitting sweatpants and a worn shirt. He walked into the kitchen on bare feet, not bothering with socks despite the cold floor. The bed would warm his feet in no time at all.

Maybe if he hadn't been so tired, maybe if he hadn't let his guard down in the last few weeks, maybe…well, when his front door exploded, shards flying everywhere, he barely had enough time to duck behind his kitchen table. As he slid over the surface, he grabbed the edge, flipping it over. The wooden surface wasn’t going to provide much cover, but it would do for now.

He grabbed the gun taped to the underside of the table. With a swift move bordering on super-human speed, he twisted his body around, firing at the intruders. The first two men went down without being able to return fire.

He kept up the steady stream of bullets, already reaching for the second clip strapped to one of the wooden legs. Of course he wouldn’t not only hide a gun underneath his kitchen table, he would also make sure he had some spare amo around. And, once he'd run through this lot here, there was always the extra stash over at the sofa and in the bread box.

He abandoned his cover, needing to get the drop on things. As long as they had him pinned down, they had him on the defensive. Besides, no sane person would run straight towards people shooting at them, so any moment of hesitation was something he could use to his advantage.

The window glass shattered behind him. He kept shooting as he flung himself sideways, trying to avoid any more bullets coming at him from behind. If they had someone on the roof, why hadn’t they taken him out while he'd been crouching behind the table? A shiver ran down his spine. Did they want him alive?

Some might think this was good news, but not him. Nothing good could come of trying to capture the Winter Soldier alive. He would rather commit suicide before being held captive again.

A sharp prick at the back of his neck had him twitching instinctively. He reached up, rubbing the sore spot, coming away with holding a tiny needle. What the fuck?

He actually stumbled when another tiny prick at the back of his neck had him twisting around. Not good, so not good.

His knees wobbled. Seconds later, his leg gave out. The gun cluttered to the ground. He looked down, squinting at his fingers, wondering why numbness was slowly spreading from his limbs inwards.

Alarm bells were going off inside his head, but all he could do was gasp in outrage as he sank to the ground. Whoever did this, would pay. Death would be a mercy when he was done with them!

"Don’t harm him. I've gone through enough trouble locating him."

Bucky recognized the voice. He frowned, his forehead creasing as he thought long and hard where he'd last encountered the man the voice belonged to. For the life of him, nothing came to mind.

Then, a burly, middle-aged man came into view. Recognition hit him as if he'd been pushed into ice water. Anton Janek, arms dealer and all around asshole with some weird tastes in lovers.

If he recalled correctly, he hadn't done anything for the guy to hold a grudge against him. So what could he possibly want with him?

Janek kneeled down in front of him, smiling at him. If Bucky could've moved, he would've flung himself away from the guy. There was something off about how the man's face twisted into a mockery of a smile. Cold, dark eyes stared at him, holding Bucky's gaze.

"So glad I finally found you," Janek mumbled, his eyes racking up and down Bucky's from. "You've been a very bad boy." He underlined his comment by reaching out, using his thumb to trace an invisible line along Bucky's jaw. He shivered.

He wasn’t usually squeamish with people touching him, but there was something about this guy which had him desperately wanting to avoid being touched. Hell, if the little touch had him already itching to take a bath, that couldn’t be good, right?

"You were off limits before…but you not so much now, right?"

Despite screaming on the inside, Bucky's eyes slid close. He tried to rouse himself, using every trick in the book, but nothing worked. The drug in his system was too potent. The darkness held him tight in the end.

##

Cold seeping into his bones was the first thing Bucky registered when he clawed himself back to consciousness. Usually he came awake in a snap, ready for action as soon as his eyes opened, and sometimes even before. Lately, he'd allowed himself to be less vigilant, a mistake he would be correcting after getting out of here. Apparently he wasn’t allowed any down time at all. He should've known better…

His limbs still felt heavy, as if led was attached to his bones, trying to drag him back down under. He forced his eyes to open. Even with his sluggish mind, he recognized the after effects of being drugged. He stared at the dark ceiling, trying to take stock of any potential injuries.

Thankfully he seemed to be unharmed. Sure, nothing was quite responding the way it should, but there wasn’t any pain anywhere. Good, getting tortured while being out cold was really just nasty. He swallowed hard, trying to wet his throat. He had the suspicion though he wasn’t in for the usual type of torture. Somehow he was certain he would rather have all his nails removed with pliers than be subjected to what Janek had in store for him.

Well, he wasn’t going to get out of this predicament by feeling sorry for himself. He flexed his fingers and moved his toes. Minutes passed, but eventually he was able to roll himself up into a sitting position. The room spun around him as if he was on a rollercoaster. 

He took deep, measured breaths, forcing his gaze to pick a spot on the wall to steady himself. Eventually the room stopped spinning. Still, he was extra careful when he turned his head. He examined his small cell. His stomach dropped. It wasn’t as if he had expected to be presented with an escape route straight away, but the situation did seem rather hopeless at first glance.

The brick walls were dirty and humid. He was fairly certain he was somewhere underground. The tiny light bulb overhead barely provided enough light to illuminate the whole cell, but he didn’t really need any more reason to feel bleak. 

There was only one way in and out: the door. It was made out of metal, with no lock to pick on the inside. Clearly Janek had used this place before to contain people.

Bucky stared at it, unable to look away. He had to get out of here, but so far he saw no light at the end of the tunnel…no grand idea came to him.

He was so caught up in his thoughts, he nearly jumped out of his skin when the door suddenly flung inwards.

Two guards flanked the door, stepping aside to let Janek enter. The eager look on the man's face, plus the rather tell-tale bulge in the guy's pants, clued Bucky in what exactly his purpose was. He'd suspected before, but now he was dead certain.

What he couldn’t understand was why? Why would Janek go through all the trouble of capturing him? Surely he could get his hands on prettier guys than him.

There was no chance he could take anyone in a fight right now, so this left him with only one option. Enrage the guy until he made a mistake Bucky could use. Or, get him so angry he killed him, thus freeing him as well. Of course, he'd rather escape alive, with all his limbs intact, but he'd rather watch the daisies grow from underneath them than be this guy's love slave!

With measured steps, as if Janek wanted to show off, he slowly came closer. Bucky forced himself to swallow, to keep his face as blank as possible. His heart beat so fast, he feared Janek would be able to see it pushing against his chest.

"What do you want? Aren't you a bit too old for games?" he snarled. He looked Janek up and down, noting the polished shoes, smart trousers and silk shirt. The guy took pride in how he looked. Maybe if he attacked his vanity, he could get him to snap and do something rash?

This might not be Bucky's best plan of action, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Despite his cultured experience, Janek cupped himself, rubbing at his bulge. His eyes never left Bucky's face.

Bucky couldn’t quite hide his gulp. He lowered his eyes to the man's covered jewels before looking up again. He snorted extra loud. With his head held high, and with a strained voice, Bucky continued with his attack. "You really don’t think I will let your tiny dick anywhere near me, do you?"

Rage fluttered across the older man's face but it was gone as quickly as it had come. Janek closed the distance between them, forcing Bucky back onto the cot with both of his hands. Despite the heaviness of his limbs, Bucky managed to dislodge him, landing a good punch to the guy's face.

He wasn’t going to go to submit without putting up his best fight. The drug in his system was going to make it hard, but if Janek thought he would have it easy, then he would be in for a big surprise!

His reflexes weren’t up to his usual standard, but he still managed to punch the guy in the face. He watched with glee as Janek lost his footing and stumbled backwards. He still had surprise on his side, so he heaved himself off the cot. In a mad dash, he made for the door. Maybe if he barreled through the two guards, he could get out. Where he would go then, he didn’t know, but surely _out_ was better than to just lie down and take it!

What he hadn't counted on was for Janek to pull himself back together so swiftly that he could grab Bucky and haul him backwards.

He was shoved back onto the ratty bed, pinned down by the extra hands of a guard.

He still squirmed, trying his best to dislodge the hands keeping him in place. Janek sat down next to him, slapping him hard.

His head flew sideways.

"You're infuriating, do you know?" the guy said almost gently. "It's what makes you so special. You don’t know when to quit. There is something very alluring about a man who looks like you do, and who could kill me with the snap of his fingers."

What?

"Even as the Winter Soldier, you were beautiful. You have an icy beauty that makes it very hard for anyone to compete with you. Your eyes are so clear, such a strange mixture of green and blue…"

His hand came to rest right underneath Bucky's left eye. He held himself absolutely still, not wanting to give the crazy person any ideas about where to put the finger. He'd tortured countless people himself, so he knew how easy it was to damage the eyes of a captive. And despite the ode to his eyes, he doubted Janek would hesitate in teaching him a lesson. There was no reasoning with crazy after all.

So, if getting him angry was off the table, what were his other options? Should he play meek and allow Janek to take liberties with his body? Bucky could compartmentalize, he could go somewhere while Janek took his body, but he wasn’t so sure he would ever be able to come back from it. He recalled enough events from the Winter Soldier's memories which had him cringing, he really didn’t want to add to them. There were only so many things a guy could repress before he ran out of space!

However, from the looks of things, he wasn’t going to be offered choice. Janek shoved up his shirt, placing his hand onto Bucky's flat stomach. If his intentions hadn’t been clear before, they would certainly be now.

Bucky swallowed hard. He hoped he could keep his face impassive, but he feared his emotions were showing clearly in his eyes. They'd always been his most expressive feature anyway. Well, if he couldn’t keep his emotions hidden, he sure as hell could choose which one to display. He shoved his fear and revolution so far down into the back of his mind that they might just as well be in an alternative universe. Instead, he focused on his anger, allowing his eyes to cloud over like a stormy sky.

Slowly Janek's hand drifted lower until it dipped underneath the hem of his trousers. Before he could grab Bucky's most private parts, a voice straight out of heaven interrupted them.

"Get your hands off him this instant!"

Steve stood under the arch of the door, looking like some kind of avenging angel. His golden hair glimmered, giving him some kind of halo. His hands were balled into tight fists, and his usually so friendly face screamed murder.

The kill order had barely left Janek's face when he was hauled off Bucky and flung into the wall. This time, he didn’t get back up again. Bucky lifted his left leg, using it to send the guard flying backwards. Steve grabbed the man and punched him in the face a few times before letting him crumble to the ground.

Their eyes locked, and like the last time, the world stopped moving. Thunder crackled somewhere in the distance, but Bucky paid it no heed.

Then, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He gasped as sudden spasms shook his body. The dull roar in his ears turned deafening. 

"Bucky!" Steve's yell barely reached him. He could feel his friend's hands on his face, on his body, trying to keep him still, but it was to no avail. Something was wrong, deadly so.

Another tall, blond, buff man came into Bucky's line of vision. As if his presence eased his overtaxed system, the uncontrollable shaking of his body eased somewhat. He inhaled sharply, forcing his lungs to take in more air. Steve grabbed his shoulders so tightly, Bucky feared he might actually snap his bones.

He hadn't met Thor in person, but he'd seen enough pictures of him on the TV to know he was now looking at the God of Thunder. And boy, his blue eyes really held the promise of an approaching storm.

"Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?" Even Thor's voice sounded like a distant sounder. Bucky prided himself on being no coward, but right now, if his limbs would've cooperated, he wouldn’t be above hiding in a corner somewhere.

Before Steve could react, Thor closed the distance between them. With one swift move, he shoved Steve out of the way. Despite the pain of Steve's too tight grip, Bucky reeled from the loss of contact. He might've wanted to avoid meeting his friend, but he wasn’t above taking comfort from his presence in his hour of need.

With surprising gentleness, Thor reached out, forcing Bucky's chin upwards. "You have his eyes," Thor mumbled awestruck. "How is this possible?"

Bucky twisted, trying to dislodge the grip. Unlike Janek, he didn’t detect a hint of sexual arousal in Thor's touch, but it was still unwelcome.

"Thor?" Steve asked cautiously from behind. He didn’t come any closer, and Bucky applauded him for it. Steve might be super strong, but Bucky wasn’t so sure he would win a fight with the alien.

As if Steve's question had broken some kind of spell, Thor partially turned his body so he could glare at Steve. "Is this some kind of game? So sort of jest?"

Steve looked baffled. "I don’t know what you're talking about…", he started to say but he was already talking to Thor's back again.

Bucky suddenly found himself in a tight grip, being pressed against Thor's body. Then, Thor tilted his head, shouting at the ceiling. "Heimdall!"

"Thor! No!" Steve shouted seconds later, but it was too late. A white light engulfed them, hurling them into space.

He fell, no, he flew…the sensation was so foreign to him, he couldn't even decide if he wanted to hurl or not. 

What could've been no more than mere seconds, but felt more like an eternity, finally came to an end. They stumbled onto a breathtakingly beautiful platform. A dark skinned man with the most amazing eyes stared down at them.

"Welcome Thor Odinson," Heimdall greeted them. "It is good to have you back on Asgard."

Then Heimdall's sharp, all-seeing gaze settled on Bucky. "Welcome to Asgard, James Buchanan Barnes Lokison."

_Wait_ …what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think? Still interested?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep meaning to say it, but I keep forgetting it! This story is set after Thor 2 BUT for the sake of this story, Odin is still the real ODIN in this story.
> 
> But don't worry, Loki will make an appearance as well...as himself.

The rest of his arrival in, what he presumed to be Asgard, was nothing more than a blur. Even being washed by eager hands wasn't something he registered. Despite his panic at being on a different world, he couldn't shake the feeling he was safe.

And thus his body succumbed to the weariness he'd been battling for so long. Apparently, even he couldn’t take the rollercoaster ride his life had become. As if an off switch had been pressed, he fell into nothing.

When he stirred once more, the first thing he noticed were the soft sheets caressing his body. He'd lain in some fine fabric over the course of his life, but nothing could even come to close to the softness he currently experienced. 

With a soft hum of contentment, he slowly opened his eyes. When his gaze settled on the huge startling vibrant green drapes, he remembered. He wasn’t on Earth any more. He was on Asgard.

He sat up a bit too quickly, but he refused to be chained to the bed by his body's weakness. He felt better than before, more in control, but despite the new found clearance of his mind, he wasn’t quite back to normal yet.

"Easy there," Thor's voice, coming out of seemingly nowhere, had him almost jumping out of his skin. "The poison has nearly left your system. You might still rather week though, so I would recommend moving carefully."

When Bucky finally laid eyes on Thor, his mouth gaped open. Sure, he'd known he was on Asgard. There was no way he couldn’t recall being kidnapped by an alien. But somehow knowing what had happened, didn’t quite live up to the reality.

Thor smiled softly. "Welcome to Asgard, nephew."

Nothing could have reminded him more forcefully of Heimdall's greeting than Thor's last few words.

_James Buchanan Barnes Lokison._.

"Are you on drugs?" Bucky inquired. He ignored how the sheet fell off his chest, pooling around his hips. He'd never been bothered with nakedness, well, not until…his mind stuttered to a halt. He refused to go back there. Surely Steve had pummeled Janek to a pulp on his behalf, so need to start fretting about things now.

The look of incomprehension on Thor's face shouldn’t have been comical but it still was. Bucky couldn’t quite help it, he laughed. At first, laughing seemed alright until he couldn’t stop.

"Easy there."

When had Thor moved closer? Bucky drew a few shaky breaths until he got his body back under control. He leveled a glare on Thor. He'd shown weakness, he now needed to make up for it.

Instead of being properly intimidated, Thor only chuckled. "Loki used to look at me in the exact same way. The glare lost it effects years ago. I believe," Thor frowned before his expression cleared again. "Yes, it was after he'd accidentally turned his hair purple. I am sad to say, I simply couldn’t take his glare seriously after that incident."

Bucky had a hard time imagining Loki with purple hair, but he could share Thor's sentiment.

"Still," Bucky finally found his voice again. "I'm sorry, but I'm not your brother's son. I've got a human mother and father."

"You sure?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Yes," _you idiot_ was on the tip of his tongue. Before saying the words out loud, he thought better of it. It might not be a good idea to insult an alien on his own turf. "My mother's name was Winifred, and my father was called George. I might not have actually met the guy, but Mom told me about him."

"What did she say?"

The question drew Bucky up short. He opened his mouth, about to answer, when he realized he didn’t actually know much about his father.

"James?" Thor prompted again.

"He died before I was born," he answered eventually. "Some sort of accident. Mom's never been too specific. I don’t know much about him either. She hadn't known him all that long when she got pregnant."

Bucky gave Thor a look, practically daring him to call his mother a tramp. Honestly, he wasn’t so sure if they'd actually gone ahead and married. His mother had always claimed so, but Bucky wasn’t sure. In the end, what had it mattered? The guy was dead, no use in fretting about it.

"We'll know for sure in a few moments," Thor said instead.

"What?"

"Ingrid is very skilled in tracing ancestral lines. With your permission of course, she will perform a spell to ascertain if Loki is indeed your father."

Bucky must've looked worried, because Thor immediately went on to reassure him. "There is no doubt on my mind of your heritage, but even if it turns out differently, you will not be held responsible. You are safe on Asgard, one way or the other."

Bucky inclined his head in a wordless thank you.

"How…" he started to ask, unsure how to phrase the question. "Why would you even think such a thing?" Unless he'd gone blind, he was pretty certain he didn’t look anything like Loki. Sure, he hadn't met the guy in person, but he'd seen pictures.

"Because when I look at you I see him," was the cryptic answer.

"We don't look anything alike," Bucky replied. 

"You have his eyes," Thor continued as if Bucky hadn't spoken at all. "And I would recognize the remnant of my brother's magic anywhere."

"Huh?"

"I cannot wield magic like he could, but I've always been able to recognize his work. There are more than just traces of him all over you. He must've been in contact with you, quite recently even."

Bucky's eyes widened a fraction. Could it be? But why would Loki take time out of trying to dominate Earth to heal him? To pluck him from his prison, save him, and then deposit him on a beach in Florida? Why would…unless…nah, it couldn’t be true.

His arm started tingling, just to remind him of his past.

No, there must be a different explanation for what had happened to him. Sure, magic might be an easy answer, but didn’t that mean it was too easy?

_Sometimes denial wasn’t just a river in Egypt_ , Steve's voice in his head muttered. _Oh shut up_ , he mumbled, not caring if Thor looked at him funny.

Without knocking, an ancient looking woman entered. A very impressive guy with an eye patch followed. The way Thor stiffened, it was easy to guess who the man was. Odin. Bucky swallowed hard. He refused to be intimidated by the ruler of Asgard.

"I'm glad to see you are awake," Odin told him. A _finally_ was heavily implied. Bucky bristled. One look at the man, and he wanted to be contrary. He clamped down on the feeling since his brain knew better than to listen to every impulse he had.

Unsure how to answer without giving his dislike away, Bucky settled for nodding. 

Despite her age, Ingrid crouched down beside the bed. She put a bowl of sorts beside him. He allowed her to take his hand and to place it inside the container. Despite Thor's assurances of his safety despite the outcome, he couldn’t quite help tensing up. He would fight if it came down to it, but he didn’t rate his chances of succeeding very high.

He watched as Ingrid performed some weird things, threw leaves and herbs over his hand while constantly muttering. Bucky had no experience with magic, but he was suddenly very clear to him why people had a hard time taking it seriously. It looked more like hocus pocus than anything else.

He'd just finished thinking that thought when a burning sensation in his hand took him by surprise. He moved to take his limb out of the bowl but Ingrid stopped him. "No harm will come to you, I promise," she told him in a gentle tone of voice.

Bucky could only stare when soft, yellow light emerged from somewhere, snaking up his hand and moving towards his heart.

Only his iron will kept him from moving away.

"Thor is correct," Ingrid announced. "His lineage is clear. Loki Laufeyson is his father."

Despite Thor's words, despite everything, he'd hoped to be proven right. He yanked his back. "No," he insisted. "You have to be wrong. My father's human. His name is George…" Even to his ears his words sounded weak, more like a child babbling than a grown man speaking the truth.

"Son," Odin stepped into view. "I welcome you to the family. My heart is heavy with sorrow when it comes to my youngest son. Please allow me to make up for my mistakes with his son. This is all I asked."

Bucky gaped, his mouth hanging wide open. Panic slowly seeped through his bones. He could practically see his rationality sprinting out of the nearby window. And what a huge window it was!

"I…" before he could say any more, Ingrid gently patted him on the arm.

"I understand magic isn’t common on Midgard," she slowly said. "Surely you have other means of establishing parentage."

Bucky nodded. Yes, science had come pretty far during the years he'd been the Winter Soldier. DNA tests could easily establish these things nowadays.

"Then you must know it is possible to do this," Ingrid continued. "You must believe me. I do not lie. Plus Thor Odinson has seen the traces of Loki's magic on your person. It still lingers, correct?"

Thor nodded.

"This is only possible if you are indeed his child."

Bucky nodded. He still wanted to refuse to believe what he was hearing, but it would seem all wind had been taken out of his sails.

"So your precious Loki knocked my Mom up and left her?" he almost shouted as he the ramifications finally became clear. The bastard! Anger rolled through him, slowly turning into a molten heat of fury.

"No!" Thor almost shouted his answer. "Father, if you please…"

"Yes," Odin regally nodded at his son. "I will leave you to it. I shall see you all at the next meal time."

Ingrid followed Odin out of the room, leaving Bucky once again alone with Thor.

"You can think of my brother what you want, but if he'd known he'd fathered a child, he would've taken care of you," Thor said with so much conviction, Bucky almost believed him.

"How many children does he have then?" he asked with some venom in his voice. His fury had ebbed away a bit, but he wasn’t quite prepared to fully let go of his anger yet.

"None," Thor answered. "Loki was always peculiar about his bed partners."

Again, without any difficultly, Bucky could easily hear the subtext. _Unlike me._

"Before the madness," Thor continue, his eyes holding a faraway look. "He'd often to different realms. He loved learned new things, coming back with herbs and many tales. I can't recall him ever mentioning of going to Midgard in recent times, but it is quite possible he did."

"But why would he not come back?" Bucky asked. 

"Time flows differently through the realms," Thor continued. "What might be an eternity for you, is only a blink of an eye for us. I'm sure he meant to go back, but something must've prevented his return. Or he might've been too late."

"Yes," Bucky nodded in agreement. It was entirely feasible to believe that they had a different measure on time. And his mother had died rather swiftly and early in life. Even if Loki had come back, he might not have been able to find her, or even learn of his birth.

"Please believe me," Thor implored. "If Loki had known of your existence, he would've never abandoned you. He might've been many things, but he would've taken care of his child."

"He healed me," Bucky mumbled as the knowledge settled deep inside him. Something shifted, something strange buried deep inside him. Like a seedling taken root, he knew without a shred of doubt that nothing was ever going to be same again. Not after this.

"Were you ill?"

Bucky looked up, his eyes meeting Thor. "How much do you know of the Winter Solider?"

Thor's frown was answer enough.

Bucky patted on the bed. "Take a seat," he said, "and let me tell you my life's story. It might take a while."

Without any protest, Thor sat down. He pulled up his feet until he seemed comfortable. Bucky didn’t care if the sheet got dirty since Thor hadn't bothered with taking off his boots.

"I grew up with Steve," he started. "You know him as Captain America. We were inseparable."

"But…" Thor interrupted, apparently having follow Bucky's train of thought. If he'd grown up with Steve, then their age must be the same.

"As you know, Steve was given the Super Solider serum, turning him into the man we all know today. When I was captured behind enemy lines in World War 2, he came after me. He rescued me. At the time, I didn’t even realize something had changed," Bucky let his voice trail off for a bit before he continued. "They experimented on me. They injected me with something to apparent no ill effect. I just wrote it off, but now I think it must have been a watered down version of the serum. I heal quicker than is normal, and, apparently, I can survive being frozen. Like Steve."

"What happened then?"

"We chased some bad guys," Bucky continued the tale. "To make it short, I fell, and was presumed dead. Now," he added, "it gets weird. I was picked up by people who sold me to the Russians. They must've realized who, or what, I was because they brainwashed me until I didn’t even know my name any more. Then, for decades, they brought me out of storage to kill people. I was their priced asset, their best assassin. They called me the Winter Soldier."

Bucky paused for a few seconds so he could digest his own words. He stared out the window, not really seeing the blue sky. Eventually he picked the thread back up again. "I was on a mission when it happened. One moment everything was clear, and the next I was on a beach in Florida with my memory fully restored. Before the event, my arm had also been replaced with a metal one. I don’t know if I lost it in my fall, or if they took it from me, either way, when I woke up, I was fully _me_ again. Limbs, memories…everything. I still recall everything the Winter Soldier died, but it is like reading a book. I am me, I am no longer under someone else's control." The last bit was said with heat. He needed to drive this point home.

He was no one's pawn any more.

"Yes," Thor eventually broke the silence. "My brother's magic was a thing of beauty. He would've sensed your presence when he was on Earth. He would've investigated, and when he found you, he would've most certainly freed you."

"He can heal then too?" Bucky asked. So far, all he'd seen of Loki's magic had been more of the destructive kind. Surely the guy couldn’t have been excellent at everything.

Thor snorted. "Healing wasn’t one of the things he excelled at, but believe me, for his son, he would've learned how to heal you. It explains why his magic is so strong about you. You've always had traces of it, but now it must be even stronger."

"Wait…" Bucky slowly exhaled as he shifted on the bed. How could he have missed this? "He's dead? Loki is dead? You killed him?"

"No!" Thor shouted. "Of course not."

"What happened then?" Bucky inquired. "Last thing I know, you took him back home to stand trial. And now he's dead?"

Thor nodded, his grief now evident in his posture. "It, too, is a long story," he started. "Have you heard about the attack on London?"

Bucky nodded.

"Asgard was attacked. Our mother was killed. I freed Loki because he was the only one capable of helping us defeat the enemy. He died in battle. It was a death of honor."

"I see," Bucky said, even though he wasn’t quite sure he did.

Something strange constricted across his heart, as if someone had reached inside his chest to squeeze it. Could this be grief? Was he mourning the loss of meeting his father? Even if he'd been a madman who'd once tried to take over the world? But could Bucky really hold this against him? With his own track record?

And, he couldn’t have been all bad for Thor to obviously still morn him like he did. After all, there were always more sides to a story. Sadly it would seem that Loki's side wasn’t going to be heard any time soon.

"I'm sorry," he finally settled on saying. "I would've liked to meet you."

Thor nodded sagely. "You did, when he healed you, but I know what you mean."

"I wish I could remember then," Bucky amended. "Will you tell me about him?"

"Yes," Thor said with conviction, life seeping back into his formerly still body. "With pleasure."

##

Their chat lasted for hours. When the sun started to set, Bucky actually felt as if he'd known Loki. At least he had a more rounded picture of the guy than he'd had before. He couldn’t say he felt anything even remotely resembling attachment, but he was no longer a stranger.

Actually, he was pretty sure they would've gotten on like a house of fire if the bastard hadn't gone and gotten himself killed on the battle field. Well, madness aside. Bucky, too, could be a bastard if he put his mind to it. And even though he tried to put as much distance between himself and the Winter Soldier, he couldn’t deny it had still been him pulling the trigger, taking pleasure for torture and mayhem.

Even now he relished the thrill of action, of killing, a bit more than what was considered normal. He had a good grip on it though, so no one needed to worry about him going on a killing spree.

The setting sun also signified dinner time. 

Thankfully Thor was able to procure a somewhat normal set of clothing for him. Dark trousers, boots, and a long sleeved shirt in the color green. Once he was dressed, he stepped outside.

A guard guided him to the dinner hall. He'd balked slightly when the guy had seriously called it a _hall_ but he wasn’t about to hide in his room.

Any lingering effects of the drug, or the poison as Thor had called it, had long left his system. So theoretically, he could head back to Earth any time now. But did he really want to? There wasn’t really anything waiting for him back there…

However, did he really want to stay here? After all, this place had driven Loki bonkers.

And there was the fact that he wasn’t even half Asgardian, he was half Jotun. When asked, Thor hadn't been able to tell him what this actually meant for him. Maybe there was more than a serum at work in keeping him alive.

He needed to get answers, and this place was probably the only location where he would be able to find out more. Apart from the fact that Asgard and Jotunheim were apparently mortal enemies. His life couldn’t be easy, right?

At some stage during this afternoon, he'd started to think of Thor as a rather strange uncle. He couldn’t quite pinpoint when the feeling had started, but he couldn’t deny it. Thor felt like family.

He doubted though he would ever feel comfortable in Odin's presence.

Maybe returning to Earth could wait a little bit. He wanted to learn more about Loki, about his heritage, and spend some time with Thor. Having a family was a new feeling, and he wasn’t quite ready to give it up.

The guard opened the heavy looking door him. The moment Bucky stepped through, Thor's booming voice greeted him. "James!"

All eyes were suddenly on him. With his head held high, not the least bit allowing his fluttering nerves to show, Bucky marched towards Thor's table. "Call me Bucky," he told Thor.

Thor frowned. "I thought your name was James?"

"Yes," Bucky confirmed. "It is. But no one has ever called me that. Not sure how Steve came up with it, but I sort of got stuck with Bucky." He shrugged. 

"Bucky it is then," Thor proclaimed. "Sit down. Enjoy the food. Mead?" Thor held out a huge jug, presumably filled with mead. 

"Sure," Bucky sat down, trying his best to appear casual, as if he didn’t notice all the curious stares. At least people weren’t gaping at him because of being the Winter Soldier. No, here they were staring at him because he was Loki's son. He wasn’t quite sure if he preferred this state of affairs or not.

After taking a deep sip, Thor started to introduce the other people at the table. "Friends, this is Bucky Lokison."

Bucky nodded, approving of his shortened name.

"Bucky, this is the Lady Sif," Thor pointed towards a fabulous looking dark-haired woman. "And these are Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral."

"The rumors are true then," Sif said, her eyes boring holes into Bucky.

"Apparently so," Bucky answered somewhat cheekily, giving her a wry smile.

"Well, how did Loki manage that?" Hogun asked, sounding perplexed.

Bucky gave him a somewhat droll look. He raised one eye brow at the man. "The usual way, I would assume."

"You are skilled in magic then," Fandral more or less told him, as if being Loki's son immediately meant he should be a magic-wielder like his father. He hated people who assumed children had to follow in their parents' footsteps. He was his own man, for crying out loud.

"Not unless you count being able to turn toast," Bucky answered. Fandral didn’t quite follow, but, honestly, Bucky couldn’t be bothered to elaborate.

A dark shape suddenly loomed over him. With measured precision, Bucky put his jug down so he could look up. "And who are you?" he challenged since it was clear as newly fallen snow the guy was looking for a fight. Bucky wasn’t about to be cowered. He hadn't backed down when he'd been little, when he'd been a solider, or any time since then. And he would be dammed if he dared to let shame come to his father's name. Loki might not be a catch when it comes to parenting, but he was all Bucky got.

Besides, if someone was going to take him in dislike, it better be for something he'd done. And not because of who he was. He might not get as riled up about injustice as Steve, but he didn’t condone it either.

"You your father's son?" the stranger asked.

"What do you mean?" Bucky shot back, every inch of his body tensing in preparation for the coming fight.

"A coward," the still nameless guy answered. Did he have a death wish? If so, then Bucky was more than happy to comply.

Not beyond putting on a good show, Bucky slowly pushed his chair back. With carefully slow movements, he got up. He was about a head shorted than the guy, definitely only half his size either, but he was certain he could kick his ass.

More than one person had died because they'd underestimated him. He might be of slender build, deceptively innocent looking, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Between the two of them, Steve had always had the bigger heart. Now, he had the looks to match his beautiful soul.

Bucky might've always scored with the ladies, but it wasn’t because he was so devastatingly handsome. No, it was because he knew how to move, how talk, and how to use his charms.

And he wasn’t above using his looks to his advantage. Being underestimated was kind of thrilling, especially once awareness settled into the opponent's gut. Nothing got his blood pumping faster than knowing he would win.

This wasn’t overconfidence talking. He had hard evidence to back up his conviction.

His quiet confidence drew all stares, more so than any words could've possibly done.

"Take it back." He didn’t raise his voice, but his words still travelled through the hall as if he'd shouted them. Suddenly it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"No."

"You clearly don’t know who I am." Bucky had barely finished uttering the words when he started moving. With a swift kick to the man's legs, he had him stumbling. Despite his size, the challenger quickly found his feet again.

He rushed at Bucky with the grace of a bull in a china shop. He couldn’t help himself, Bucky laughed. The sound rang loud and clear through the hall.

It was almost too easy to side step the punch. He ducked out of the way, using the man's momentum against him. He landed a good kick to the kidneys. The pained grunt was like a symphony for his ears. He could only hope Asgardian physiology was similar to human, but he figured if a Jotun had managed to sire a child with a human woman, then they all couldn’t be too different. Besides, now wasn’t the time to start second guessing his moves.

Not wanting to draw this fight out, Bucky quickly stepped onto a chair, launching himself up into the air. Using his legs, he kicked the living daylights out of his challengers. When the man landed on the ground, breathing heavily, Bucky settled on top of him. He'd grabbed a knife form a nearby table on his way down. He now held the bald to the man's throat.

"Do you yield?" he asked menacingly.

If anyone could drop dead from a glare, Bucky surely would be vaporized. Since, alas, such a thing wasn’t possible, the man gave a jerky nod.

He held the man's gaze for a few seconds before he let him get up. Despite holding the knife at his side, there couldn’t be any doubt on anyone's mind about his willingness to still use it should it become necessary.

It was a sign of his utter disrespect of his opponent's skills when Bucky simply turned his back to him. He sat down again and continued to eat as if nothing had happened. He caught Thor's approving look, but the man didn’t say anything out loud. They shared a smile.

##

Settling into life on Asgard proved to be easier than expected. He liked fighting, and Thor was an excellent sparring partner. Sure, it was obvious the guy went easy on him, but good fund was had by all. Eventually though, he knew he had to return to Earth. As much as he enjoyed his stay on Asgard, he wasn’t prepared to stay here indefinitely. He had no clue what he would do back home, but knew it was time to return there.

Despite his fears, Thor simply nodded in acknowledgment. "You are welcome here at any time," he said. "Just call Heimdall's name, and he will transport you."

"Are you coming back with me?" Bucky asked. Didn't Thor have a sweetheart on Earth?

"Not yet," Thor said slowly. "I will find you when I do return."

"How?" Bucky asked. "It's not as if you know where I live." Or will be living, he silently amended because he was most certainly going to find a new place now. His old apartment was clearly compromised.

"Heimdall sees everything," Thor answered. "He will point me in your direction."

"Creepy," Bucky muttered. Best not to dwell on that statement for too long.

Thor accompanied him to the bridge, bidding him farewell with a simple nod. Bucky did the same, not wanting to be outdone by his uncle.

The return trip was sort of anticlimactic. Not even the free fall through space, and maybe time, could astonish him.

He emerged in a dark alley somewhere in what he thought could be Midtown. The markings on the ground smoked as he stepped out of them. Travelling like this sure as hell beat travelling by plane but it wasn't really stealthiest mode of transportation.

Since he didn't want to wait around for anyone to come investigating, he quickly left. Despite knowing better, he decided to go back to his apartment. There were things there he needed before he left the city for good. Besides, days had passed since his abduction, surely no one would be loitering about there any longer. SHIELD might have tabs on it, but he was fairly confident he would be able to evade them. It would be a lot trickier in getting new IDs set up. He had a few spare one stuffed into a good hiding place. He'd gone through great lengths to obtain them, he wasn’t about to give them up this easily. Besides, he could use some cash too.

He'd only walked two blocks when he caught sight of a familiar blond man ducking into an alley. Steve?

Bucky cursed. His luck of late sure as hell seemed to be on the fritz. What else would you call having just arrived from a distant planet only to run into Steve? What were the odds? Unless Heimdall had done this on purpose…

His sixth sense though was tingling. This wasn't something he could easily ignore. He might not want to run into Steve, or have anything to do with him, but this didn't mean he wanted his oldest friend come to any harm. Surely if he followed him just for a little while he wouldn't give anything away, right?

On silent steps he followed Steve into the alley. Steve was an excellent leader, brilliant in a fight, and usually without fear. Moving stealthily though, or pay attention constantly, wasn't his forte. Frankly, the need probably had never come up.

As feared, the moment Steve had reached the midway point of the alley, the supposedly empty van turned out to be full of men up to no good. The large side door opened.

Bucky yelled out a warning but it served no good. They injected Steve with something even his quick reflexes couldn't protect him from. By the time Bucky had caught up with them, all he could see were the tail lights.

He frantically looked around, searching for a way to follow them. His eyes landed on the keys on the ground. Steve must've dropped them. He picked them up. And voila, right behind the dumpster there was his bike. 

Mere seconds after the van had vanished around the corner, Bucky was in pursuit. Weaving in and out of traffic came easy to him. In no time was he caught up with the van. Since the van seemed just like any other vehicle on the road, no one would think twice about it speeding past the other cars. With his keen eyes, Bucky spotted the van in question almost immediately. 

He carefully followed, making sure not to catch up too much. Being on a motorbike gave him a bit more freedom to weave in and out of the traffic than traveling in a car would. Still, he couldn’t be too careful. Steve's life was at stake. He might not want to meet the guy, but he sure as hell didn’t want any harm to come to him either.

About an hour outside the city, the van finally slowed down. Bucky was tempted to follow when it entered a dirt road but he knew better. He passed by the exit, pretending not to have a care in the world.

He must not have been as stealthy as he'd thought since moments later someone had started to follow him. Since they stayed back, not trying to run him off the road, he assumed they weren't sure of his motives. He could, after all, just coincidentally have trailed after them. This was a free road after all. 

Despite wanting to do the opposite, he followed the road until a rundown motel. He parked the bike in an obvious spot, mentally saying sorry to Steve for doing this to his bike. He had next to no money on him, only small change, but it was enough to get him a room for a night.

As he walked up towards his room, he spotted the car sitting in the parking lot. Thanks to the darkened windows he couldn't be sure but he was still pretty certain that he was being watched. He entered the room, switching on the light. Thankfully night was falling rapidly so they probably weren't expecting him to leave any time soon. He made a lot of expected noise, like running the shower and turning on the TV.

Eventually he settled down, or pretended to do so.

He hoped the goons watching him weren't smart enough to stash someone at the back. Thanks to the constant drizzle, the likelihood of someone willingly sitting outside his bathroom window was rather small.

He squeezed himself through the small hatch, saying countless prayers to anyone listening not to get stuck. He was slim, but it might be a stretch to expect to get through this unharmed. He toppled to the ground, unable to break his fall.

When he looked up, he found the parking lot deserted. He quickly got to his feet. It didn’t take him long to find a suitable vehicle. He hotwired an older model, avoiding having to battle brand new security systems. The exit to the lot was on the other side of the motel, so no one watched him leave. He quickly headed back the way he'd come hours earlier.

When he deemed himself to be close enough, he hid the car in a ditch. The thick shrubbery meant no one was going to find the vehicle during the night. It might be discovered come morning, but if he was still around by then, then he had more to worry about than the bloody car. 

Following the dirt road might make things easier, but it would've been folly. Instead he made his way cross-country, using his excellent senses to guide his way through the darkness.

He moved cautiously, always on alert, always expecting the worst. Just because the landscape seemed deserted, didn't mean it really was so. Eventually the tree line ended, giving way to an empty stretch. The farmhouse seemed dark and uninhabited, but Bucky was pretty certain he was in the right spot.

His first clue was the cameras he could see peeking out from underneath the roof of the barn. At a closer look, there were even trip wires on the ground. Surely there was a guard or two around as well, even if he couldn’t see them yet.

He crouched down in the shadows, memorizing everything he could spot. He needed just one little hole in the security measures to get closer. There, on the far side, there was his chance. The angle of the cameras was just a little bit off, giving him a very narrow window to approach without being seen. 

He made his way across the forest until he dared to cross the clearing. He senses were on a high alert. Nothing could possibly get past him in this state of mind.

Still, when he reached the side of the barn, he couldn't help himself. He let out a sigh of relief.

Steve might be held somewhere in the house, he couldn't be sure it was the barn he needed to investigate, but the majority of the security features were around the old construct. After a few seconds of indecision, he decided to follow his gut instinct. The barn was where he was supposed to be, he was sure of it.

He inched around, making sure not to be spotted of any camera. He considered himself lucky when he found a way inside. The side entrance wasn't locked. He hoped this meant Steve captors weren't overly cautious.

On the inside, he quickly made himself small. He scanned the area, looking for more traps. He couldn't spot anything, apart from a trap door.

He chewed on his lower lip. This was bad. There was no way to protect himself while he tried to get the door open. Hell, if someone was on the other side, he would be practically inviting the guy to shoot him.

Still, the longer he waited and pondered things, the direr the situation could become for Steve. They obviously didn't want Captain America dead. This could only mean they were after the serum. And nothing to do with the serum could possibly be pleasant for his friend.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it. The way he saw it, he had two choices. He could either let Steve rot or do something about it. Since option A really wasn't an option…

Throwing caution into the wind, he leaped out of his hiding place.

Despite expecting to almost immediately be pelted with bullets, nothing happened. He yanked the trap door open, jumping into the darkness. For a few seconds he flew blind as his eyes adjusted to the change in light. With cat-like grace, he landed in a crouching position on the ground.

There was no one around. Hell, as far as he could tell, there wasn't even a camera! Either those guys were very sure of themselves, or they were idiots. Either way, Bucky considered himself to be lucky.

He pressed on, not wanting to tempt fate into sending him a curve ball by lingering for too long. He slowed down as he approached a bend in the hallway. He lowered himself to the floor. He carefully peeked around the corner.

He quickly retreated when he noticed a guard. He hadn't seen a door, but why else would he be there? Even a glance had given him all the information he needed. Not wanting to find out if he'd been seen, he dashed around the corner. Within seconds he was on the man. With a well-placed punch, the man fell to the ground.

Lady Luck was still smiling since the door wasn’t secured with a key pad or even by being locked. Once he'd opened the door, he quickly dragged the body inside. Once upon a time he might've killed the man, but he wasn’t that person any more.

His blood ran cold the moment his eyes found Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chews fingers nervously* what do you guys think
> 
> I am also considering writing a Loki/Thor part to this story. I am not sure about it, but I think there might be a story popping up soon featuring those two. If that happens, I will share the appropriate link and turn this story into a series...crazy organized, that's me.


	4. Chapter 4

"Steve?" Bucky's voice was barely above a whisper. And yet, it still felt as if it echoed through the room as if a bomb had gone off.

One a gurney, pale as a ghost, Steve was strapped down like some sort of animal. Bucky sure as hell had expected something like this. It was however quite a different thing to actually see it with his own eyes.

For a few seconds it looked as if Steve wasn't going to react. Was he even awake? What was he supposed to do if he was unconscious? Bucky cursed. He hadn't considered that. There was no way he could carry the guy to safety.

Then, almost as if the effort cost him more strength than he had, Steve moved his head sideways. He couldn’t be sure, but when their eyes met, recognition flared up in Steve's blue orbs.

Bucky sighed in relief. As far as rescue missions went, this was one a disaster. His plan basically consisted of getting Steve out. How he was supposed to achieve this momentous feat, well, he hadn't thought that far ahead.

He tore his eyes away from Steve. He didn’t run towards him. He didn’t try to talk, or to get Steve to move. Instead, he made a beeline towards the IV. Steve's body took care of foreign agents very quickly. The only way to keep him sedated was to keep the drug flowing into his system on a steady drip. It stood to reason that if he removed the IV, Steve would quickly return to his usual cheerful self.

Together their odds improved significantly of getting out of this mess alive. He wasn’t necessarily gentle when he yanked the IV out of Steve's arm. He then moved to undo the metal binds. Apparently they'd been smart enough to use more than rope. Despite the lack of decent security around, Bucky wasn’t about to cry victory yet. Luck was fickle. It had a habit of changing when you didn’t expect it to. He could practically hear the clock ticking in the background, telling him time was running out.

He glanced at the door. So far so good. No one had come knocking yet. He moved closer to Steve, placing a hand over Steve's.

"Come on, man," he urged. "Stop being a lazy ass. We need to get going."

Steve grunted, clearly not in the mood for words. He did move though, slowly but steadily. Like some sort of new fowl, he nearly fell to the floor because his legs refused to carry him. Bucky grabbed him just in time. He pulled his friend flush against his body to steady him.

"I got you, don’t worry."

Together they hobbled towards the door. Bucky tried not to think too much about how awesome it felt to be able to be this close to Steve. He could practically feel the flexing of his strong muscles underneath his shirt. Bucky swallowed. What was wrong with him? Since when was he reacting to Steve like that?

It might've been wishful thinking on his part, but Bucky could've sworn Steve's steps turned surer the closer they got to the door. The moment Bucky placed his hand on the handle, an almost mind numbing alarm went off.

He shoved Steve out of the door. A lone guy rushed around the corner, barreling straight into Steve. Bucky didn't need a better opportunity to render the guy nearly unconscious by pulling him into a headlock.

"Is there another way out of here?" he hissed, letting all his anger be reflected in his voice. Sometimes you didn’t really need to threaten with actions. If you could manage a menacing voice, making your intent clear, it, sometimes, was enough to give people incentive to spill the beans – so to speak.

"I'm not telling you anything," the idiot tried to put on a brave face.

Help came from a rather unexpected source: Steve.

The blond stepped around Bucky, and into the guy's line of sight. Steve didn't even have to lay a hand onto the man. One glare from Mr. Goody Two Shoes and the criminal caved. "Don't harm me! I was just following orders! I'm a big fan, Captain."

Bucky couldn't help but roll his eyes. What was the world coming too when even the scum of the earth fancied Captain America? He couldn't decide if the thought should be scary or uplifting.

Unsettling was probably the best word for it.

"The ventilation shafts!" the guard yelled, eyes bulging out as Bucky continued to make breathing difficult for him.

"Access?" Steve asked him almost pleasantly.

"Over there," the man underscored his direction by frantically moving his head to the left. At least he tried…

"Thank you." Steve answered politely. 

When it was obvious they were done, Bucky shoved the man head first into the wall. He was done with killing people unless it became absolutely necessary, but he wasn’t stupid enough to leave the guy conscious. He then dragged the unconscious heap into Steve's former cell. The alarm might've already been raised but they didn’t need to make finding them easy.

"Let's go," he avoided Steve's predictable outrage by shoving him towards where the guard had indicated. It didn't take long for them to open up the metal casing, revealing a very narrow tunnel.

Steve went first. Bucky spent a few seconds dragging the metal latch back into place after he'd squeezed himself through the narrow opening. It wasn’t going to hold up to scrutiny. However any seconds gained could only work in their favor.

The narrow tunnel was uncomfortable to say the least. He couldn’t even admire the excellent view (Steve's ass) since he could barely see at all. When they finally reached the outside, he couldn’t quite hide his relief. He'd never been overly fond of small spaces.

A quick glance around showed him they hadn't been discovered yet. Maybe the goons were still busy searching the facility, not bothering with the outside. Bucky was glad they didn’t seem to know the first about setting up security, and he hoped their inaptitude would continue to ease their escape.

Not daring to speak out loud, Bucky whispered. "Head for the woods. I'll catch up with you."

"If you think I'll leave you alone…" Steve started to object. Bucky cut off any further protests by placing his hand over Steve's mouth. The gesture was so out of character for him it shut Steve up straight away.

His eyes might've even turned a little bit huge. It was hard to tell in the darkness.

"I want to throw them off our scent. Just go. I promise," Bucky implored. "I won't be long."

Despite telegraphing loud and clear with his body how much Steve hated the idea, he gave a curt nod.

Good.

He didn’t watch Steve leave regardless how much he wanted to stare after him. He shook his head. What was wrong with him? He rubbed his chin, waiting for divine inspiration as to how achieve his next goal.

He might've told Steve he would be along shortly…but he had no clue what he was going to do yet. Either way, he had to do something quickly.

He decided to start by moving to the front side of the barn. Might put him in the line of fire but it couldn’t be helped. He got down on his knees, carefully looking around the corner. He let his gaze wander over the exposed yard. His eyes settled on barrels of something. He couldn’t make out any writing in the darkness. He hoped though whatever it was would know how to go boom.

He took a deep breath, scanned the area one more time, before breaking into a mad dash across the yard. He practically hurled himself behind the barrels, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Using his hands, he traced the objects, looking for the opening. He found the lid on the far side. It seemed to be quite simple to tear it open. All he had to do was simply twist it sideways. He wrinkled his nose when the liquid dripped out. It smelled god awful. He repeated the same thing with a few more before he decided he'd made enough of a mess.

He was no chemist, but he hoped it would make a nice, distracting explosion. Now, how to get to blow up? Sadly he didn’t smoke, so he didn’t carry any lighter with him.

With a heavy sigh, bemoaning his lack of foresight, he grabbed two stones. Hopefully it wasn’t going to take him ages to create a spark. And hopefully the strange liquid wasn’t going to go boom straight away. He would prefer not to end up barbecued, thank you very much.

He dropped the stones the moment a spark flew. Nothing happened. Damn it. He picked them up again, inching even closer. He chewed on his lower lip as he got to work again. His heart hammered against his chest as his tension rose even higher. This time he didn’t stop when the first sparks flew. He kept going.

His heart skipped a beat when the liquid finally caught on. He didn’t even bother with dropping the stones. He simply hightailed it out of there, sprinting across the clearing as if the Devil himself was chasing after him.

He only made it half way before the explosion sent him flying forward. "Shit!" he yelled, his voice unable to be heard over the loud roar of fire behind him. 

The draft of the explosion carried him into the first trees. He barely had the time to raise his hands to protect his face before he crashed through the branches. At least he wasn’t going to be out in the open when the enemy came out to investigate!

He landed on the muddy ground with a pained grunt. Despite his brain screaming at him to get up, to get going, his limbs refused to move. He breathed in and out, not caring if he inhaled a few bits and pieces of dirt along the way.

Out of seemingly nowhere, like some sort of angel sent from heaven, Steve appeared by his side.

"You're an idiot," he saw the need to inform Bucky. Then he moved on to state the obvious. "We need to get going. There isn't time for a little nap."

Bucky grunted, not able to do anything else.

He didn’t resist when Steve grabbed him, forcing him back onto his two feet. 

"Come on," Steve urged. "I'll help you."

"Don’t need help," Bucky grounded out.

Still, he didn’t object when Steve snaked his arm across his waist, assisting him with staying up right.

Together they vanished into the trees.

##

"You're bleeding. Why didn't you tell me?" the panic in Steve's voice was enough incentive for Bucky to look down. He was bleeding? How had that happened? Where was he hurt? Why didn’t he feel any pain? Why…?

His mind spiraled out of control. Moments later his body followed suit as the ground rose up to meet him.

"Shit," Steve swore. Since it was rare for the blond to utter a curse word, it was almost enough to anchor Bucky back into the world of the awake. Almost.

"There's a hut over there. Only a few steps more…come on Bucky, you can make it…" Steve implored.

Since Bucky would do almost anything for his friend, he struggled back onto his feet. Of course he needed Steve's assistance, but together they managed to make it to the ramshackle construct.

Steve fumbled with the door for a few seconds before, with a loud huff, he kicked it in. It creaked as it flung inwards, bouncing off the wall with enough force to almost slap them in the face.

Once they were inside, Steve gently lowered Bucky onto the ground. Bucky twirled his fingers in the soft rug. He didn’t even question where the thing had come from. All that mattered was that it was soft and comfortable.

He must've lost some time since to him it only appeared seconds later when the light came on. 

"I found the generator," Steve informed him from somewhere. Bucky couldn’t tell if his voice sounded far away because he was actually far away or because he was close to passing out.

"There's a bed over there. Let's get you set up so I can fix you up. What do you say?"

This time Bucky couldn’t offer much help, so Steve was left to more or less drag him across the floor. He did manage to twist mid fall so he didn’t end up face first on the cushions.

The ramshackle hut wasn’t so shabby after all. Good.

"Where are you hurt?"

_Good question_ , Bucky thought. He couldn’t deny something was wrong, but he wasn’t in any pain. He just felt really weird. And woozy…kind of disoriented. Not there…out of place…

"Bucky!" Steve yelled. He shook him, causing hot pokes to be rammed through Bucky's skull. He moaned. 

"Let me see," Steve proceeded to gently move him into an upward position again. He prodded and poked at his head, carefully checking for wounds. Bucky nearly passed out when Steve found the right spot.

"Shit," Steve uncharacteristically cursed again. "Something must've nicked you in the head. It stopped bleeding, but I don’t like…"

The rest of the sentence could've been a love declaration, or Steve confessing to having an extra tail…Bucky didn’t hear it any more.

When Bucky drifted back into consciousness, the first thing he noticed was Steve standing underneath the light bulb, touching his ass. "Are you touching yourself?" he asked, unable to help himself.

"What?" Steve hurled around, almost losing his footing in the process. "No! Just looking for my phone."

"They left you with your phone?" Bucky asked, unable to contain his outrage. What kind of morons were those people? Never mind their inaptitude had worked in their favor, Bucky was still pissed off out of professional courtesy. There was no honor in betting a stupid foe. Still, he couldn’t argue with the result. Steve was safe. Yay.

Steve ignored the question. "Aha!" he exclaimed, retrieving a state of the art Stark phone. "I'm going to call for help. You need medical attention. And I don’t fancy staying here for too long."

"Don’t," Bucky hurried to stay. Honestly, talking kind of hurt his head since thinking seemed to require for his thoughts to walk through molasses. But this was important. Steve couldn’t call for help.

"What?" Steve's forehead creased in the cutest possible way.

"Promise me, Steve," Bucky implored. "Don't call this in. I don’t want to end up a prisoner of SHIELD. Promise me."

Steve stared at him as he'd lost all his marbles. His mouth hung slightly open. There might've even been a tongue peeking out. It shouldn’t have been cute, and yet it still was. Bucky's thoughts almost completely stuttered to a halt.

"No harm will come to you. I promise."

The words comforted him, so he let his eyes fall closed. Later on he could blame his confused state of mind for not having noticed that Steve hadn't actually promised not to call SHIELD.

##

He woke up to a strange sound hurting his head.

"Ungh," he shifted sideways, using his momentum to get his feet off the bed and onto the ground. Once he was sitting up, he looked around. No Steve anywhere.

He carefully rubbed his temples, mindful of his injury. Despite still feeling slightly off, the pain in his head had now dulled to a small sledgehammer assaulting his skull. Progress, right?

Only when he was standing up did he finally recognize the noise. A helicopter.

"Steve!" he shouted, running outside, all his pain forgotten. Adrenalin flooded his system fueled by raw, undiluted anger.

Steve stood outside in the clearing, staring upwards. When he saw Bucky dash towards him, he had the audacity to look chagrinned. "I can explain…" he stuttered.

Bucky didn’t let him get any further word in. He balled his fingers into a tight fist. He used his momentum to hit his friend in the jaw. Steve staggered backwards with an astonished look on his face. Apparently it hadn't occurred to him that Bucky might be outraged at the betrayal of his trust!

Still, instinct kicked in. Before Bucky could land a second punch, Steve retaliated by shoving him backwards. Since he was still unsteady on his feet, and since Steve still didn’t quite know his own strength when he was emotionally compromised, the force sent Bucky flying backwards.

The sudden, almost blinding pain at the back of his head shouldn’t feel familiar, and yet it did.

All noise fell away until nothing remained.

##

Distorted images raced across his awareness, taunting him with a world outside the confines of darkness. Sometimes he could've sworn he heard Steve's voice, calling out to him.

At times there was someone else there, someone poking and prodding him, causing him even more pain.

Then, the light faded again, leaving him with nothing but the blackness of his mind.

##

Before becoming the Winter Soldier, he'd relished waking up slowly. His ascent from sleeping into wakefulness used to be a slow one, something to be cherished, to be enjoyed. As the Soldier there had only been two states of awareness for him: active and not.

Now, it seemed to be somewhere in between. He was no longer able to wake up slowly, to remain unaware of his surroundings. And yet, he no longer snapped awake as if a switched had been flipped either.

Before he opened his eyes, he took stock of his surroundings. The smell indicated a hospital. The beeping nearby confirmed this. The metal surrounding his writs served like the proverbial last nail in the coffin. He was in a SHIELD hospital.

He opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling for a few seconds before confirming his suspicions by looking around. There wasn’t even a window. The small room held all the necessary medical equipment, but otherwise it was as far removed from a real hospital as Mars was from Earth.

He lifted his torso a little bit so he could look at the handcuffs. When the door opened, he couldn’t resist the urge to rattle his chains a little bit. "Really?" he asked cheekily. "Handcuffs? I hadn’t realized you had a kinky side."

"I assure you, I don’t," Director Fury barked. His rather stern expression was voided by the amusement shining his eyes.

Bucky rolled his eyes. Apparently he would have to work harder to annoy the man into letting something useful slip. He refused to accept the alternative. He had to escape. He wouldn’t survive being locked up again. His breathing turned ragged for a little bit until he found control again.

When the walls seemed to move inwards, he forced his eyes closed for a few seconds to steady himself. He hated to show any sign of weakness around the man.

When he was ready, he shifted on the bed, pretending to look for a more comfortable position. If he'd been able to fool Direct Fury he didn’t know.

"I assume you know who I am," Fury opened up the conversation. He didn’t wait for an answer before he continued. "You are Sgt. James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes."

Nowadays with the added _Lokison_ to the mix. He wasn’t addled enough yet though to say _that_ out loud.

"You died honorable in battle. I believe there is even a memorial for you somewhere."

Bucky shrugged. There could be. Anything even remotely connected to Steve would've received an enormous amount of attention.

"You then spent the next few decades as the Winter Soldier, soldier, assassin. Even Agent Romanoff used to describe you as deadly."

Bucky had to fight very hard to not preen at the unexpected praise. 

"Let us be clear," Fury narrowed his eyes at him. He even shifted closer to underline what he was about to say next. "If Agent Romanoff hadn’t vouched for you, I wouldn’t even consider the deal I am about to offer you."

Bucky swallowed hard. SHIELD did have the power to disappear him permanently. He would kill himself before ended up as a prisoner somewhere. However, he'd rather not go down that route.

"She filled me in on your story," Fury continued. "How you woke up in Florida with your limbs and your memory intact. What works in your favor are your actions since. Since everyone believes the Winter Soldier to be dead, you could've easily hired out as a mercenary. Instead you chose to work odd jobs until you reached New York. And, as far as I can tell, apart from your drug addiction, you haven’t toed a toe over the line."

What drug addiction? Just because he decided to take the edge off once in a while didn’t make him an addict. Now though wasn’t the time to start a fight over semantics.

"Dead?"

"You don’t know?"

Clearly he didn’t, otherwise he wouldn’t have asked.

"The roof you were on exploded. The body of the Winter Solider was recovered and identified using your former metal arm and dental records."

Bucky blinked. _Huh_ , he thought, _way to go Dad._ He mentally cringed. He couldn’t call Loki Dad. That just felt wrong. Still, kudos to the guy for tying up all possible loose ends! He no longer needed to worry about someone coming after him! He was dead!

"You really have no idea what happened?"

"None," Bucky lied. "One minute I was on the roof and then I was on the beach in Florida. I got no clue what happened in between."

"How much time elapsed?"

Bucky blinked. Good question. Why hadn’t he thought about that before. "I don’t know," he admitted. "I was so confused when I woke up," he hastily added. "Needless to say also a bit freaked out. I hid away until I was certain I wasn’t going to sprout tentacles. I can't really say how much elapsed between the roof, the beach and my return to the world."

"Something to look into then," Fury commented. Bucky didn’t like finding common ground with the guy. He was right though. He might know about Loki's involvement, but it couldn’t hurt to learn more about the incident. Just in case.

"Because of your actions since you arrival on US soil, and because of your exemplary record as Sgt. Barnes, I am willing to give you the benefit of doubt."

_Oh, here it comes_ , Bucky thought. _The catch_.

"Once you are cleared to go, you will move into the Avenger Tower. Stark might be a pain in my ass, but he's got state of the art security. I would like to believe you to be an asset, like Agent Romanoff. But can you be absolutely certain you aren’t going to wake up one day and kill us all?"

Bucky's mouth went dry. He liked to believe he could promise this wasn’t going to happen but he knew he would be lying.

"I'm me," he said instead. "I've got all of the Soldiers memories, but I'm in control."

Fury nodded. "I actually believe you. However, I am not willing to run the risk of being wrong. You will live in the tower. You are free to come and go as long as you tell JARVIS where you are going and when you plan on coming back. You will not spend the nights outside. You will also agree to counseling. Once, and if, the counselor declares you as harmless, only then will you be free to go."

Fury leveled a dark look on him. "You could be an asset to the Avengers. I would recommend you join their team, but the decision will be left to you. If you deviate from any of those points, I will throw you into the deepest hole I can find. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Bucky replied. He hated being told what to do. Fury did have a point though. He was reasonably certain there was no switch that could be flipped, turning him back into a soulless killer. However, he couldn’t deny it would be better to be certain.

Actually, this deal was almost too good to be true. Surely there was a catch around here somewhere. He just had to wait for the other shoe to drop, and drop it will.

Something occurred to him them. He hated to find a fly in the soup. "What if someone recognizes me? I'm not giving up my name, so eventually someone will connect the dots."

Fury actually waved at him. "Steve is willing to do a teary press conference on your behalf. It is no secrete you were exposed to experimentation before you were killed in action. We will simply claim that the bad guys kidnapped you, used your exposure to the serum to run tests on you. When they were done, they put you on ice. Since this is how Steve survived all those years, no one should question the story."

"What about the Winter Soldier," Bucky asked, hating the fact Fury had so far managed to tie up everything neatly.

"Granted, the pictures we have of the Winter Soldier are grainy and not very reliable. But Natsha has met the Solider, and she is quite certain no would mistake Bucky Barnes for him."

"I'm the same person," Bucky objected.

"First of all, people will see what they choose to. Second, as the Solider you wore a mask. You had long hair. You had a metal hand. And how many people are still left alive who actually knew your real identity? Do you think they kept records of your brainwashing? And what are the chances someone actually cared to figure out what your real name was back then?"

"They called me James," Bucky whispered. He closed his eyes for a few seconds. This wasn’t quite correct. "No," he amended. "They called me by my designation, but there were some who still used James as my name."

"Well, it is a risk we are going to have to take."

Bucky nodded. Fury was right. He would've rather stayed in the shadows, stayed out of Steve's life and out of the lime light, but that chance had gone up in smoke the moment Steve had laid eyes on him. All he could do now was make the best of it.

And as much as he distrusted SHIELD, and any organization like it, he couldn’t deny the deal was a good one.

"I accept then," he eventually said. "When can I go?"

Fury snorted, a sound so unexpected it had Bucky slightly widening his eyes. "Not so quickly, son. The doctors want to keep you a bit longer for observation. You got some head trauma they are worried about."

Bucky shrugged carelessly. "I got a hard head."

"I don’t doubt it," Fury dryly commented. "I don’t doubt it all."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather short update today, sorry!

The car lived up to expectations. Dark, tinted windows, sleek surface, and overall looking like a typical rich-man's wet dream. He figured it must be Stark's since SHIELD wouldn’t go through so much trouble for him.

Either way the ride was comfortable. He even risked closing his eyes for a few seconds. His fingers itched, his body refused to relax but he could at least try. He couldn’t recall the last time he'd gone out without any type of weapon on him. Sure, he didn’t always carry a gun, but a nice, sharp knife went a long way to make him feel safe.

SHIELD of course hadn't allowed him to pickpocket any of their things, so he was kind of walking on egg shells right now. He might be able to kill a man with his bare hands, he was trained in countless hand to hand combat techniques, but he still felt naked without some sort of weapon on him. He didn’t know why, he just knew how to live with is demons.

"Just through the door, Sir," the driver told him through the intercom since, of course, the backseat was closed off from the man actually driving the car.

"Thanks," Bucky mumbled. He quickly exited. He walked into the tower, not the least bit intimidated by the high glass windows or by its sleep appearance. Smart men and women dressed in fancy business clothes walked about looking extremely busy.

He kind of stood out with his jeans, boots and sweater. Oh well, he knew he could still work the room should he so choose.

He walked towards the receptionist. He leaned against the counter, all nonchalance and easy smiles. "Hi there," he greeted her with his most winning smile. He was rewarded with a blank look as the woman stared at him. Then she blushed.

His smile widened.

"How can I help you?" she asked, clearly struggling to keep the red from spreading even further.

"I'll take it from here Nancy." A woman in dangerously high heels walked up to them. She held out her hand. "I'm Pepper Pots. Tony asked me to take you upstairs."

"Nice to meet you…" he struggled for a moment, unsure if he should be formal or not.

She came to his rescue almost immediately. "Call me Pepper, please."

"Pepper, then. Nice to meet you too." He graced her with yet another winning smile. She didn’t blush or look pleased. He honestly hadn’t expected her to react. A woman who had survived as an assistant to Stark for so long, and who was now his girlfriend, clearly wasn’t going to be charmed easily. Nor should she be.

He might enjoy flirting and the game, but he knew where to draw the line. And another man's woman clearly was off limits on so many levels he wouldn’t even be able to name them.

"This is our private elevator," she pointed towards where they were heading. "You've heard of JARVIS, Tony's AI?"

Bucky nodded.

"Good," she continued. "You don’t need a code. Just press the button and JARVIS will let you up. No one who isn’t authorized can access this lift."

As if ordered, it pinged, doors opening. Bucky followed her inside, trying hard not to stare at her as she moved. There was something to be said for a woman who could walk this gracefully in those heels.

He cleared his throat to get back into the game.

"If you don’t want to press a button, just tell JARVIS where you want to get off."

He nodded again. JARVIS seemed to be always present. Should he mind the intrusion? What did it say about him that he could just shrug it off and pretend he wasn’t constantly watched?

"Tony's supposed to fill you in on the rules, but I'm sure he's forgotten half of them by now," she continued. "It's very simple. You can come and go as you please as long as you tell JARVIS where you are going. Give him also an estimate when you are planning on coming back. You always have to spend the night. Also, here is your new phone. If you run into any trouble, all necessary contacts, including on how to reach JARVIS, have been programmed into it."

"Thank you," he simply said, pocketing the device. He would be tracked by it, he was sure of it.

Still, this deal was still a lot better than he could've hoped for. Probably due to Natasha and Steve speaking up for him, otherwise he would've probably ended up in a hole somewhere.

He did consider high-tailing it out of here. The impressive security features kind of work on the assumption he was going to play ball. They assumed he actually wanted to be assimilated, to be able to live out in the open when all he had actually wanted since waking up on the beach was a simple life.

Well, with a bit of excitement in the mix. He wouldn’t be able to survive dull for very long without going nuts. Still, he could walk at any time. Just ditch the phone, make up some phony excuse for going out. He could then simply slip away. He had many means of leaving the city undetected. And with a decent head start, he could be anywhere by the time they actually came looking for him.

But did he really want to spend the rest of his life always looking over his shoulder? Before being discovered, he hadn't really been without fear of discovery, but he'd been reasonably certain he would be able to manage. Now? If he walked away from this deal, SHIELD would come after him with everything they had.

Sure, he had every confidence in being able to evade them…but did he want to spend the rest of his days always looking over his shoulder? It was a last resort, something to keep in mind in case SHIELD got too hands on with him. Until then, he might just as well play along.

Besides, he got an ace up his sleeve: Thor. If he truly ran into trouble, he could always just leave the planet. Now this thought gave him some pause. It was so out there, it literally was in another realm.

Images flooded his mind of strange, new worlds, of people, of customs, of exotic places, all waiting to be discovered by him. Maybe he should consider going off-world for a little while.

His train of thought was interrupted by arriving at the right floor. When they stepped outside, Stark was already there. He looked Bucky up and down as if he was assessing him. He probably was.

"So you're the fun one then," Stark drawled.

Bucky's brow furrowed. "Come again?"

"Oh, please," the guy said, closing the distance between them so he could pat him on the shoulder. "I did my research on you. You're the one who knows how to have a good time. I'm sure we'll get along just fine!" The comment was underline by what could only be described as a shit eating grin.

"And please, call me Tony. No Mr. Stark or other names. Tony will do just fine. And you're Bucky…"

Tony eyed him again as if he was some sort of alien life form. Well, Bucky conceded to himself, he kind of was. His mind stuttered to a halt. He was half Jotun. How come no one had discovered that during examining him? Or did it mean he was more human than alien? He would have to ask Thor the next time he saw him. He twitched. What if this couldn’t wait? On the other hand, hadn’t he lived like this all his life? Surely if something strange was going to happen to him it would've already.

He'd survived an impossible fall. He'd survived being frozen over and over again. He'd survived… _OK_ , he told himself. _I got the message._ It couldn’t be good if he had full on conversations with himself inside his head, right? Did this count as hearing voices?

"I'm sure you've had enough people staring at you," Tony continued, thankfully breaking him yet again out of his slightly disturbing thoughts. "I got to ask though, what was Asgard like? Why did Thor practically yank you out of dear Steven's arms and take you away?"

Bucky blinked. Was there a point to Tony waxing all poetic about his kidnaping? It occurred to him right then and there that Fury hadn't brought it up at all. Surely he should've wondered why an assassin gets transported to Asgard? Why hadn't he even asked?

Bucky frowned. Maybe he needed to be a bit more careful. Especially since he didn’t seem to be as observant as he should be. Was he getting rusty in the old art of being a step ahead?

"You'd have to ask Thor," Bucky answered, shrugging as if it was of no consequence to him. "But the guy did save my life. Whatever they had given me, was slowly killing me. I'm not sure your doctors would've discovered it in time. I owe him my life, and that's all that's important to me." He added with such a finality Tony dropped the subject. However, he still gave him a meaningful look which Bucky couldn’t decipher.

Tony closed the distance between them. He placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder, squeezing it gently. He leaned even closer before he whispered. "Steve's really thrilled to have you here."

He made the effort to look Bucky straight into his eyes when he delivered the next part. "If you hurt him, they won't find your body. Don’t think just because you could kill me with your pinky that I can't deliver on my promise. I got debts!"

Bucky gave Tony a curt nod. This was the _the best friend speech_. Once upon a time it would've been up to him to deliver it. However, times had changed. He could respect Tony for it.

"Good." Tony moved away again. "Steve's waiting for you. JARVIS will take you to him."

"Uhm," Bucky hedged, unsure how to bring it up without sounding rude. "Where am I going to sleep?"

"With Steve of course," Tony answered, giving him a shit eating grin.

"Tony," Pepper interrupted. "What he means to say is, Steve's prepared a gust room for you. If you choose to stay, we'll convert another floor for you, but so far Tony actually doesn’t have any guest rooms."

Bucky frowned. No guest rooms? In a place like this?

Tony shrugged. "I don’t do guests. If someone is staying over, they usually stay in my bed."

This earned him a glare from Pepper, so Tony quickly back pedaled. "They used to stay in my bed." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, the point is for now you got to bunk with Steve. We can look at options later on."

"Sure, thanks," Bucky answered easily. "I'll just go then…" he awkwardly pointed at the lift. When no one said differently, he entered it.

Just as promised JARVIS took him to Steve's floor. A whole floor. Bucky still wasn’t so sure what to make of it.

"Bucky!" Steve shouted his name the moment he entered his friend's place. For a second, Bucky couldn’t quite help but see Steve as an overexcited puppy wagging its tail. "Welcome," Steve continued as he pulled him into a slightly one armed hugged. "My casa es su casa and all that."

"Nice place you've got," he said as he extracted himself. He walked into the middle of the huge room, turning around so he could see everything. "You've always liked open spaces," he commented.

"Yes," Steve stepped up beside him. "The kitchen is through there," Steve pointed towards a door. "My bedroom is this way. You’re in my former art supply room. I'm sorry it's a bit small, but I figured you would rather have privacy than a big room."

"Sure thing, Steve," Bucky assured him. "Truly, I would've been fine on the sofa or on the floor."

Steve looked unhappy for a few seconds before he proceeded to grab Bucky's hand. He dragged him towards his new room. Buck paused in the middle of the room, looking slightly astonished at finding his duffel bag in the corner. Steve must've seen his look because he answered without needing any prompting. "Natasha packed up your stuff."

"Ah."

"Yeah? You don’t mind?" For a few seconds Steve looked like the shy kid Bucky knew growing up. His throat constricted, and his heart did some kind of weird flip flop.

For a few seconds, Bucky had no clue what Steve was talking about. Then the fog cleared. "Don't worry, Steve. I don’t mind her rummaging through my things. It's not as if I got treasure hidden away somewhere."

"Good, good," Steve mumbled. "I wish I could tell you to take your time to settle in, but apparently Fury scheduled your first appointment with the counselor for this afternoon." Steve sounded properly apologetic when he said it. Bucky could read between the lines though.

"You don’t think it's too soon."

After a few seconds of a rather pregnant pause, Steve finally spoke again. "No," he quietly said. "You've been through so much. When I woke up, I didn’t want to talk to anyone either."

"But you did, right? Is that the gist of it? Talking helped you so it should help me too?" Bucky couldn’t quite keep the accusation out of his voice.

"It does help," Steve implored. His eyes rounded, making the blue even more vivid. Bucky blinked before looking away.

"Just give it a chance?"

"Fine," Bucky mumbled. He didn’t have to actually look at Steve to know he was looking very pleased right now. He had no intention of actually spilling his darkest, inner most secrets, but he might just as well approach the whole thing with an open mind.

Besides, the shrink didn’t only need to evaluate him. He also needed to get a feel for her since she was the one holding all the cards at the moment.

"It's a her then?"

"Hm? Oh yes. Martha…Martha Lambert. Do you know how to get to her office?"

Before he could answer, JARVIS actually spoke. "If you would like, Sir, I could forward the address to your phone. You could access the map there. It is only a few blocks from where we are now."

"Thank you," Bucky acknowledged. He wasn’t too sure how to handle an AI. However, knowing its creator, he would bet good money on the thing having a personality. Being polite for now, and playing by the rules, could only work in his favor in the long run.

"How would you like me to address you?" JARVIS asked.

"Bucky will do just fine," he answered. 

"Of course, Sir."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "How much time do I have left?"

"About an hour," Steve answered quickly. "Do you want to have dinner with me?"

The question was posed so quickly, Bucky could barely make out the words? "What?"

"Dinner," Steve broke down the sentence as if Bucky was a bit lost on the uptake. He could feel irritation rising inside him despite knowing he was being irrational. "Do you want to have dinner with me?"

"Sure," Bucky shrugged. He wasn’t hungry now, but after the torture session with the shrink, he would probably need to have something comforting. 

When he looked up, Steve was fidgeting. He'd shoved his hands into his front pockets, rolling up and down on his heels as if he was fighting some sort of nervous tick. Why was Steve staring at him with this odd look on his face?

Bucky backtracked their most recent conversation, wondering if he'd missed something. He'd agreed to have dinner with Steve. They'd done countless dinners before, so there was really no reason for Steve to look this nervous and hopeful at the same time. It wasn’t as if he had agreed to go on a date…right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are in the quiet part of the story at the moment. Things will heat up soon enough (both sexually and, well, adventure-wise).
> 
> I am going to go away for a few days shortly. I don't know what the Internet connection will be like so updates might be a little bit delayed because of this. SORRY!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sex and the appearance of Loki.

"It's, of course, up to you if you want to talk to me…" Martha broke the silence. 

Bucky could hear the _but_ coming a mile away. And he wasn’t disappointed.

"But if you don’t participate in these sessions, you'll probably end up living under supervision for the rest of your life."

She wasn’t telling him any dramatic revelation. He was well aware he would only get the all clear from her if he actually said something. However, faced with the daunting task of actually opening his mouth, and god forbid, actually talk about his feelings, he was struck mute. He'd rather be carved up alive than this! And people did this willingly! How was therapy supposed to help if it sent his heart racing and made his hands clammy?

"You really don’t have to," she continued gently. Did she think he was about to bolt if she spoke up? He ignored the fact that she might be on to something. 

"I," he started to say before his voice gave out. Where was he supposed to start anyway?

"How about I pick a topic and you tell me your thoughts. If you don’t like it, then we'll try a different one. Also, you don’t need to answer any of my questions."

He nodded.

"You recently were abducted and…"

Before she could go any further, he interrupted her. "And nearly turned into a love slave, I know. I was there."

"Do you want to talk about how this made you feel?" she prompted.

He looked at her with wide eyes. Was she serious? "How it made me feel?" he echoed. "It made me want to punch him in the face and tear out his nuts, if you must know."

"How do you feel about intimacy in general? I hear you didn’t want to look up your best friend. Do you want to talk about your motivation there? Surely you must know he would've been delighted to learn you're alive."

"Intimacy?" he repeated, feeling like a parrot. "I like sex just as much as the next person," he answered. "And why I chose not to contact Steve is none of your business."

"I'm afraid it is," she gravely said. "But we can talk about it another time."

By the end of the session, Bucky had to fight to keep himself in check. He'd gone without the urge to kill anyone for nearly a full year. Five seconds in Martha's presence with her questions and he was ready to tear someone apart.

"James," she called after him when he was almost out the door. "I know you don’t believe it, but talking helps. Not just because everyone says so, but because when you voice your thoughts, you actually give yourself the chance to evaluate them."

He frowned. He turned around, staring at her. He wasn’t going to ask for it, but if she was willing to elaborate, he wouldn’t mind hearing her reasoning.

"It might seem as if you're fully aware why you are doing things, but in retrospect, when you analyze your actions, you might discover something else altogether. Believe me, this is for you, not for me. You don’t have to share your revelations with me. Well," she amended, "to a certain degree you have to…"

"I get it," Bucky quickly injected. "It's just hard. I need some time to adjust to this."

"Of course," she smiled congenially at him. "Until next time."

"Bye."

Bucky wouldn’t say he ran out of the office building but it came close. His over active imagination even helpfully supplied leaving a dust trail behind. Sometimes he did wonder about the state of mind.

##

When his head hit the pillow, his head spun. Dinner with Steve had been just like old times. They'd shared pizza and beer, talked and laughed and overall acted like ten year olds. There might've even been a food fight involving chips.

Bucky was curled onto his right side, one hand under the pillow. His breathing was evening out when the bed dipped.

He only opened one eye to confirm what his senses were telling him. "Steve?" he mumbled, wondering what was going on.

"I just need to see you," Steve sounded wretched, as he could barely contain his emotions.

Bucky turned until he was lying on his back. He tilted his head so he could face him. Bucky only twitched slightly when Steve placed his flat hand over his bare stomach. He looked down, staring at it before he looked up, staring at Steve.

"I still can't believe you are here," Steve rushed to explain. "I need to reassure myself constantly that I'm not dreaming. I'm sorry." Steve made to remove his hand. Bucky pinned it down by putting his own over it.

"I don’t mind," he honestly said. To prove his point, he moved closer, leaning his body into his friend's.

As if an invisible wall had just crumbled, Steve practically launched himself at him. He pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing his face into the crook of Bucky's neck. He could hear him inhaling deeply. Bucky put his right arm over Steve's hips, pulling him even closer. Steve practically melted into him until Bucky honestly wasn’t sure where he began and Steve ended. His dick twitched as desire slowly started to burn in the pit of his stomach.

Steve's hands roamed his body. One trailed up his bare back, sending goose bumps up and down Bucky's spine before coming to rest at the nape of his neck. His other moved south, dipping below the waist of Bucky's sweatpants.

His breath hitched as Steve grabbed him. He slowly started stroking him, sending shivers of desire through his body. The already smoldering fire in stomach roared to full life almost instantly.

"Steve," he groaned as a full on body shiver threatened to take his voice away.

Bucky trailed his hand down Steve's spine until he managed to snake his right one down Steve's boxers. With his thumb he stroked down Steve's crack until he could squeeze his ass. It wasn’t only Steve who shivered in approval.

Bucky shifted his body, wanting to straddle Steve, but he didn’t succeed since great minds apparently thought alike. Steve pinned him down instead by coming to sit on his thighs.

He used his arms to propel him upwards, meeting Steve half way for a passionate kiss. He couldn’t say who moved first, who yanked down whose pants first, but in the end, when Bucky fell backwards onto the mattress again, Steve had both his and Bucky's cock in his hands.

Bucky let his eyes flutter shut, giving himself over to countless sensations running through his body and mind. He curled his toes as a particularly maddening wave of pleasure shot through his body. His back arched. He grabbed the sheet, nearly ripping it apart in the throes of passion.

"Steve!" he yelled his friend's name as the volcano inside him finally broke. Steve wasn’t far behind him, adding to mess between them. When they were both spent, equally unable to form a coherent thought, Steve simply let himself slump forward.

Bucky embraced him, ignoring the stickiness between them. His limbs were too tired to move, his mind too sated. They might regret it in the morning, but for now, he wasn’t inclined to move an inch.

"Hm," he hummed as he felt a wet towel on his chest. He swatted at Steve, not wanting to be disturbed.

When all traces were removed, Steve snuggled up behind him, pulling him tight against his body. Bucky normally didn’t allow his bed partners to take these kinds of freedom. Steve, however, seemed to be the exception to the rule. Besides, he was way too satisfied to make an issue out of it.

##

"Steve?" Bucky asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Don’t move," Steve told him. He planted a quick kiss on Bucky's nose who wrinkled it in answer. "Have dinner with me again?"

"Hm," Bucky hummed in answer. "It's a date," he managed to force out before he rolled to his side, pulling the cover back over his head. Him and Steve, Steve and him. After last night nothing would ever be the same between them. Instead of panicking about it, Bucky could only smile. Somehow this seemed to have been inevitable between them even if he hadn't actually thought about it before last night. The future seemed brighter somehow now that Steve seemed to be a permanent fixture in it.

He heard Steve chuckling as he left the room. Bucky wasn’t even aware he was smiling as he snuggled into the pillow.

Bucky stayed in limbo for a little while, enjoying feeling safe for once to allow himself the luxury of not paying attention to his surroundings. Eventually, though, his mind refused to be silenced.

He was dating Steve. He was dating his best friend, whom he'd known since they were both children. And he couldn’t find an ounce of regret about it. Had they always moved towards this? Would they have ended up here anyway if their respective fates hadn't intervened? Or would they've pretended to not feel this deeply because society would've expected it of them?

Bucky was honest enough with himself to admit that back then he'd only allowed himself to have eyes for the ladies. His eyes might've wandered to men at times, he could admit to that. But would he have acted on those impulses? Probably not.

But now? Now things were different. Had they actually lucked out by ending up so many years in the future?

Bucky stretched lazily, enjoying the slow burn in his muscles. Then, his stomach rumbled.

With a sigh he decided to listen to his stomach.

It only took him a short while to shower, get dressed and locate the kitchen they all shared.

"Sorry, didn’t see you there…" he stuttered after nearly running someone down.

"No harm done," the stranger smiled, carefully cradling his steaming mug of something to his chest.

Bucky sniffed. Then he wrinkled his nose in distaste. "That's not coffee," he accused him, eyes scanning the room for a machine.

"Sit down," the still nameless guy told him. "I'll make you a cup."

"I think I can handle it myself," Bucky replied. When he realized he might've sounded a bit too rude, he opened his mouth to apologize. The dark haired guy only shook his head.

"Don’t worry," he told him as he walked towards a normal looking coffee machine. "Until Tony gives you access to his coffee, I wouldn’t try using the machine if I were you."

"Why?" Bucky asked as he took a seat on the table. "Is it going to start shooting at me?"

The guy chuckled. "No, but it won't brew coffee."

"Ah," Bucky acknowledged. He'd heard enough stories about Tony Stark to believe the weird statement without proof. Besides, if he couldn’t get his coffee here, there was a coffee shop around almost every corner in this part of the city. Not a tragedy then, not really.

As he watched the stranger operate the machine, it finally dawned on him who he'd been talking to. "You're Bruce Banner," Bucky said.

He felt immediately guilty when Bruce's shoulders tenses. "Yes?"

Bruce sent him a cautious look over his shoulder as he put the mug onto the machine.

"Don’t worry," Bucky tried to reassure him. "I won't run screaming from the room just because you turn green when you're in a mood. I'm all too familiar with not being in control."

"You don't turn into someone twice your size though," Bruce countered. He put the steaming mug of coffee down before Bucky. "Do you take milk with it or sugar?"

"Nah, am good," Bucky declared as he inhaled the coffee. The hot liquid nearly singed his mouth but it was so worth it.

Bucky allowed silence to settle into the room as he briefly considered his whacky, spontaneous idea. Could he trust Bruce? 

"I've got a favor to ask," he looked up just as Bruce tried to inch out of the room. "Sorry," Bucky backtracked. "If you got somewhere to be I won't keep you."

"What kind of favor?" Bruce asked him somewhat warily.

"Sit down, please," Bucky jerked towards one of the empty chairs.

Once Bruce had taken a seat, Bucky cleared his throat. "I want you to run some tests on me."

"Hm?" Bruce gave him a thoughtful look. "You don’t want the others to know about this."

"Yes," Bucky admitted. "I have no proof but during the Second World War I was captured and experimented on."

Bruce nodded, clearly he'd heard that part of the story. "I'm pretty certain I received some sort of variation of the Super Solider Serum."

At this Bruce's look sharpened. "What makes you think so?"

"I heal faster than what is normal," Bucky explained. "I not only survived a deep fall, I also came out of being put on ice with my sanity intact. I don’t think someone without the serum could've survived what they put me through."

_The serum plus his Jotun heritage_ , Bucky silently added, but he wasn’t about to share that part yet.

Bruce, though, seemed to sense something more was going on. He gestured for Bucky to get up, to follow him.

They took the elevator a few stories up to Bruce's private space. "You got your own lab here?" Bucky inquired.

"Tony might be many things," Bruce explained, "but he isn't stingy when it comes to sharing his wealth."

Bucky made a noncommittal sound.

"JARVIS," Bruce suddenly said. "Please active my privacy protocol. I want no record of this conversation to be kept."

"As you wish, Sir," JARVIS declared.

"What?" Bucky asked.

"There's more, isn’t there?" Bruce approached him, staring at him. "You want answers but you aren’t telling me everything."

Bucky bristled. "What makes you think I will tell you now?" he challenged.

Bruce shrugged. "It's up to you. I just wanted to show you that you can now talk to me without any fears of being overheard."

Bucky chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. He did need answers. Should he trust Bruce with the dilemma though? On the other hand, out of all the Avengers, he might be the only one who would understand his problem.

"I want your word," Bucky demanded. "That I'm about to tell you, will not leave this room."

"I promise," Bruce answered immediately. Then he raised his hand. "Unless what you are about to tell me will put others in danger. I will help you find the answers you're looking for but I won't endanger others for it."

"Fair enough," Bucky agreed. "Let's sit down, this might take a while."

He quickly told Bruce the whole story. How he suspected to have been given the serum, how he ended up healed, and how he couldn’t help but wonder about how much humanity was there still left in him.

"You're Loki's son," Bruce simply stated as if he was saying the flower is yellow.

Bucky nodded. Bruce continued to stare at him. Then, he raised a hand to rub at his jaw, never breaking eye contact.

"Fury doesn’t know about Loki. He still doesn’t know how you got your memories back or how you got healed," Bruce summed up what Bucky had just told him.

"Yes," he simply answered.

"I can see why you are looking for answers and why you don’t want anyone to know."

"Really?" Bucky chuckled, a small smile playing across his face.

"Why trust me with this?"

"Spur of the moment decision," Bucky admitted. "Plus, you don’t strike me as the type who would want to be too involved with SHIELD either. You have the skills I need, a good moral compass, and, more importantly, understand why some things shouldn’t be broadcasted."

"Because of the Hulk and what happened to me," Bruce answered.

"Yes," Bucky confirmed. "You wouldn’t want someone else to end up as a lab experiment or locked up for something he can't change."

"You're worried about what will happen when it becomes public knowledge who your father is."

"Wouldn’t you be?"

"Before the serum, when you thought you were completely human, did anything weird happen to you? Did you heal faster? Experience any sort of strange abilities?" Bruce changed the subject.

"No," Bucky answered immediately, shaking his head. "I might not have been a sickly child but I got the flu and other ailments just like everyone else. Believe me, I thought about it a lot and there wasn’t anything that would jump out and scream different."

"Alright," Bruce frowned. "Then you got the serum and supposedly fell to your death. Do you think this fall might've triggered your Jotun heritage?"

"I don’t know," Bucky wanted to rip out his hair. This was so frustrating. "Before figuring this out, I would've sworn it was due to the serum. Now? I honestly don’t know. But don’t you agree I need to figure it out? What if I fall ill, what if I get exposed to something and I react differently? I need to know who I am before I can even contemplate moving on with my life."

_Be with Steve_ , he silently added.

"Yes, I can see your problem." Bruce sounded distracted. He was clearly already running mentally through all the tests he would need to do. "Let's start by taking blood," he said.

Bucky simply held out his arm.

There was a part of him who didn’t want to trust someone else with this. Especially someone he'd only met five minutes ago. But who else could he trust? Steve wouldn’t be able to support him in this. There was even the chance he might feel compelled to inform others. And even if Steve agreed to keep something this monumental quiet, they would still need to talk to someone else to actually run the tests.

And Bruce was a doctor. No, it might go against Bucky's nature to trust his fate to another man's hands but there clearly wasn’t an alternative.

##

Bucky couldn’t recall the last time he'd been this bored. Normally he would be out scoring a hit right about now to take the edge of things. With JARVIS around, monitoring his every move, he didn’t dare bring any illegal drugs back to his place. He really didn’t need the aggravation his little fun would bring.

Sadly Natasha was on a mission somewhere, as Bruce had told him. She'd taken her archer with her leaving no one else around Bucky could talk to. So he'd decided to become a couch potato and surface the many idiotic channels Stark's TV had to offer.

"Sir, there is no cause for alarm, but I would like to inform you that the Avenger have been called to action."

Bucky barely twitched.

"Anything serious?" he asked. If JARVIS would say yes, he might feel tempted to actually consider offering a helping hand. Not out of the goodness of his heart, no, but he wouldn’t mind pummeling something into a pulp to elevate his boredom. If Steve then wanted to call it a good deed, Bucky wasn’t going to object.

"Not at the moment," JARVIS answered. "Would you like me to inform you should they require assistance?"

"Please do," Bucky replied equally formally. There was something about the way JARVIS spoke which either made him want to swear at the AI or speak equally cultured.

He wasn’t looking when some artificially stunning woman on TV started gushing about Captain America. A few words drifted through to him, eventually catching his attention. His eyes snapped up to the screen. He leaned forward, nearly falling off the sofa with his need to understand what was happening.

There, on the screen, in color and for everyone to see, was Steve hand in hand with a dark-haired woman. This alone wouldn’t have been damming. It was what followed which had Bucky seeing red.

He didn’t even notice as the room temperature started dropping. Nor did he see how his breath condensed in the air. His hands gripped the cushion tight, but it wasn’t his nails which hurt the fabric. No, it was the ice which was slowly spreading outwards from where he was sitting.

On screen, for the entire world to see, was Steve kissing a woman. And to put the final nail in the coffin, the presenter happily explained, "Is this Captain America's new girlfriend? They have been seen together in the past, but as of this morning it would seem they are making it official."

_As of this morning_. Right after he and Steve had slept together. He wasn’t delusional enough to think having sex would automatically mean the guy was supposed to declare his undying love and propose marriage. But he'd honestly assumed that there was something more between him and Steve. Between the two of them, it had, after all, always been Steve who'd gone on and on about true love and monogamy. It hadn’t even occurred to Bucky to think Steve might only be using him.

She continued to gush about this development. Bucky no longer heard. The sudden roar in his ears drowned out any other sound around him. He'd never before experienced the phenomenon called tunnel vision but what he experienced now sure as hell came close.

"Where is Steve?" Bucky asked JARVIS, his voice devoid of any emotion despite the volcano roaring deep inside him.

"Is everything all right, Sir?"

"Just answer the question." Almost like an afterthought, he added please to his sentence. JARVIS rattled off the address without needing any further prompting.

"I will inform Sir you're joining them," the AI added.

Bucky didn’t care if he screamed the news from the roof top.

He had no clear recollection of how he got from the living room in the tower to the warehouse where the fight was taking place. He must've run all the way, but he honestly couldn’t say for sure.

"Bucky!" Steve greeted him cheerfully. Bruce was right behind him wearing nothing but elastic pants. Tony hovered in the air, still within shouting distance. "Thanks for coming but the fight's already over." Even if Steve hadn't said so, the smoldering remains of the warehouse behind him would've clued Bucky in.

Steve gave him a winning smile which on any other day Bucky might've called blinding like the sun.

Bucky stopped, his hands balled into tight fists. The concrete floor started cracking underneath his feet. "How dare you," he hissed. Steve's betrayal was still shaking him to the core. Steve's betrayal had taken him by surprise. Usually he was on always on guard. Not with Steve though, never with Steve.

Knowing Steve, and his values, Bucky had thought there was more between them. Instead Steve had simply used him, gotten what he needed and run straight away to his girlfriend the very next morning.

And he refused to be this unimportant to Steve bloody Rogers.

Steve's perplexed expression didn’t even register with Bucky. His rage was too all consuming.

The sudden wind should've startled him but Bucky had only eyes for Steve. The ice slowly spreading outward from where he was standing didn’t even register with him. He didn’t even see Steve straining against the storm, shouting at him.

Anger usually burnt white hot, destroying everything in its path. Instead, the icy tendrils of his emotions turned his usual rage into a cold, destructive power. Any reason he might've had vanished under the onslaught of a new ice age.

"Bucky!" Thor stepped into view. His sudden appearance was enough to break Bucky's connection, even if only for a few seconds. Where had he come from? Maybe if Steve hadn't been stupid enough to step around Thor, and back into his line of sight, Bucky's fury might've ebbed away to allow reason to take hold once more.

Instead, it rekindled his outrage, his sense of betrayal. The storm around him picked up again, adding icy rain to its mix.

Someone shoved Thor out of the way and walked towards him. The ice, hurtful to everyone else, didn’t even seem to register with him. Vivid greenish eyes held Bucky's gaze. The look was mesmerizing, stopping him in the tracks.

"Take a few deep breaths. Don’t let your emotions get the better of you. You are in control." The man's dark hair was longish, definitely not a cut currently in fashion. It suited him, though, bringing out his fine cheek bones.

"Loki," Bucky mumbled, his eyes turning wide with surprise. His anger vanished as if it had never been.

Despite his screwed sense of time, not more than a few seconds could've passed. At the same time as Bucky spoke his father's name, Steve yelled it too.

Thor tried to intervene, to keep the Avengers from doing something unforgivable, but all eyes were once again on Bucky when his legs gave out. With a pained grunt, he crumbled to the ground. All energy seemed to have been drained out of his body, as if someone had opened up a hole inside him, letting it all seep out while he wasn’t looking.

Loki crouched down on the ground beside him, pulling his limp body into a tight embrace. Then he turned, glaring at everyone around him.

Someone shot at them, despite a few yells to the contrary. An invisible shield grew around them, stopping the bullets from reaching them.

"I won't let you harm my son," Loki yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Loki," Thor implored. "No one is going to harm Bucky."

To prove him wrong, Tony tried another shot. The shield vibrated, giving off a few sparkles.

"You were saying?" Loki challenged.

Bucky held on, fighting to stay conscious.

"What is going on here?" Steve demanded to know. Tony landed his suit next to him, his arm outstretched, ready to fire again. Bruce lingered in the background, the only one apart from Thor and Loki aware of the current undercurrents in the situation.

"Odin can help," Thor pleaded, the puppy dog look on his face slightly out of place on a man of his size.

Loki laughed but there was no humor in it.

"Do you honestly think Odin offered _my son_ a place on Asgard out of the goodness of his heart? Even you can't be this stupid! I won't let him use him for some dreadful scheme of his!"

And to underline his words, the world suddenly fell away. Bucky apparently wasn’t the only one in his family with a flair for the dramatic. 

The world vanished not because Bucky finally lost consciousness, no, that would happened later. It vanished because Loki had apparently had enough of chitchat. He transported to them to safety.

Or so he thought.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. My holidays is now finished. Sadly, I am also back at work...but I will keep the updates coming!

"Just breathe. Let it go. You no longer need to hold it all in."

Bucky fought against the voice. It wanted him to release his fury, and why should he? Steve had betrayed him. Worse, he'd used him. From anyone else Bucky would've been able to accept it but not from him. Hell, he usually always expected the worst from people anyway. The only glorified exception to his proven rule was Steve.

Until now.

And that wasn’t something he knew how to deal with.

Someone was rubbing soothing circles onto his back. The gesture had his eyes snap open. He vaulted himself backwards until his back pressed against something solid. Never mind how undignified crawling over the floor must've looked like, at least no one could come at him from behind.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, needing the reprieve it offered. Every inch of his soul shouted at him not to display such weakness. He paid the voice no heed. Logic dictated otherwise. If the guy, _Loki_ seriously meant him any harm, he wouldn’t have clung to him like a life line. Nor would he have transported him to supposed safety.

Wait a minute.

He opened his eyes again so he could look around. All he could see was stone. He gulped, quickly looking left and right.

"The entrance is further up," Loki quietly answered. "As you can see, you don’t really want to go out there right now."

Bucky nodded. It might still be day but the deluge outside barely let the sunlight reach the ground. He shivered. He raised his arms so he could tug them around his torso.

He looked back at Loki who looked a little bit ruffled. He was sitting on the ground, his legs folded in front of him. One could assume he was all calm but Bucky knew better. He could easily read the signs of tension.

"So, Dad," Bucky drawled. "Fancy meeting you here."

"I'd rather you call me Loki," Loki answered. Despite the English accent, Bucky could detect a foreign touch to his words. It made for an intriguing combination. "I might've fathered you," Loki went on. "But I didn’t raise you. I strongly believe the honorific father has to be earned. Don’t you think so?"

Bucky nodded. He was only aware of a few father issues concerning Loki and Odin but what he knew had painted a rather bleak picture for him. Besides, he'd rather not call Loki Dad. It not only sounded odd, it also felt weird.

Without anyone knowing differently, they might even be considered to be of similar age. And the weirdness just kept on giving…

"Soooo," Bucky drew out the word. "Why are we here? Where is here anyway?"

Loki managed to look sheepish before he shrugged. Bucky narrowed his eyes. He had the sneaking suspicion the guy had no clue as to their whereabouts.

"Please tell me you didn’t just randomly deposit us somewhere," Bucky pleaded. "Can't you just take us back to New York? It is rather cold and uncomfortable here."

"I can't," Loki answered, actually breaking eye contact as if he was ashamed. "I shouldn’t have teleported without knowing where to go to either but I had to get you out of there."

"You mean after you outed me as you son?" Bucky asked with a bite. Now SHIELD was going to be after him for good. Goodbye any sort of deal they might've had.

"Because you were losing control," Loki answered.

"Yeah, about that," Bucky picked up the new topic. "What the hell happened? One minute I was gearing up to tear Steve a new one, and the next I was standing right in the middle of an ice age."

"It's your Jotun heritage," Loki explained.

Bucky frowned before he shook his head rigorously. "I've lived this long without displaying any freakish abilities…"

"It must've manifested late," Loki interrupted. "Look," he added when Bucky was about to protest again. "You are my son. You haven't inherited my skill for magic, but any Jotun is born with some rudimentary power over water and ice. It's how they survive on their home world."

_Their_. Could Loki's issues with his heritage be any clearer? The distance he put between himself and his origins should've probably alarmed Bucky but it didn’t. He could understand not wanting to be reminded of your past.

Loki also didn’t know about the Super Solider Serum either. It might've played a part in delaying part of his heritage. Then again, he'd lived long enough as a supposed mere human, not displaying any kinds of otherworldly traits, so why blame the bloody serum suddenly for him going this long without manifesting?

There were many answers and many questions. Bruce might be able to shed some light on the question, but Bucky doubted he would be able to actually talk to the guy again. There went his only chance to really get to know himself!

And yet, he still owed Loki for coming to his aid.

"Thanks," Bucky said out of the blue. "For healing me, for getting me out of slavery."

"Any time," Loki answered nonchalantly even though he looked anything but easy going about the topic.

"So why can't you magic us back to someplace warmer?"

"I used up too much energy to get us here," Loki answered.

"Aren't you supposed to be very powerful?"

Loki actually glared at him. Bucky grinned in return.

"I don’t know Midgard well enough to have a safe spot. So I pictured something you can find on any realm: a cave inside a mountain with a forest surrounding it. My magic latched onto the closest image in my mind, and here we are."

"At least we are still in the same time zone," Bucky mused as he glanced towards the rain again. He couldn’t figure out if the sun had moved past its zenith or not, but considering it was still daylight, and it had been morning in New York, their chances were pretty good they weren’t too far from home. Well, technically speaking with far away from home being Africa, India or the Moon.

"Can't you at least get a fire going?" Bucky whined. He shivered as the cold tried to claw its way inside his body.

"I am no miracle worker," Loki snapped back.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be dead anyway? And how come you never came back for my Mom? Thor insisted you wouldn’t have walked out on us…"

"I wouldn’t have!" Loki almost yelled.

Bucky raised his head, staring at the guy again. There was a wild look about the man which spoke volumes. The hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one he hadn't even realized he had, vanished instantly. In its place something warm and pleasant took up root, slowly spreading outwards.

"Look," Loki continued in a more sedate voice. "Time moves differently between the realms. We might age slower than humans do but we don’t live for centuries either."

"However, with the time stream moving on different speeds, it might seem as if you guys can live forever," Bucky finished Loki's sentence.

"Yes," Loki confirmed. "As to my supposed death," he continued. His voice faltered for a moment before he spoke again. "I was near death when scavengers found me. They took me to one of the rim worlds. I almost died several times over until I found my strength again to start the healing process."

Bucky nodded along, taking it all in. It would explain Loki's current weakness and his inability to take them back home.

"On the outer branches of Yggdrasil time moves even slower. A day might mean a week for other realms or months even…" here his voice trailed off for a few seconds before he found the strength to continue his tale. "When I literally ran into Thor months had passed for him and only weeks for me."

There was a story there, Bucky could practically smell it. When he inquired after it, Loki shut him down with one jerk of his head. Never mind then, he could always get the juicy details from Thor himself whenever they got back.

"I can't go back, can I?" Bucky asked. He wasn’t necessarily asking Loki, he was more or less talking to himself. "They would hunt me simply because of who I am."

Instead of offering condolences or just saying he was sorry, Loki said. "No use to cry over it. Midgard isn’t very important any way. We need to figure out what Odin is up to so we can stop him."

Bucky stared at Loki. "What makes you think he is up to something, and what makes you think we need to stop him? He might be an ass, but so far I've seen no proof he would actually mean any harm to any realm."

Loki huffed. "He welcomed you with open arms," he answered. "He told you, you could come back at any time. I know this because Thor happily informed me."

"So?" Bucky challenged. "Maybe he just wants to make amends for having screwed up with you."

Loki narrowed his eyes. He practically spat the words when he started speaking again. "He took me from my home world as an infant. Sure, I might never know if he really wanted to safe me from certain death or if he had other plans, but what is important is that he kept my heritage from me."

"You don’t seem all that fond of your heritage," Bucky pointed out.

"How would you feel if you were raised on stories of those Jotun monsters only to find out you are one of them? Surely someone as wise as Odin would've realized eventually the danger in raising someone like me to hate himself? He should've either told me or ensured I also learned that the Jotuns are also just people. Flawed, hateful, maybe, but not inherently evil. Instead, he let me believe all the lies. What point could there be to raise someone like me in his court unless he did have some political gain in mind?"

Bucky stayed silent. He usually believed the worst in people anyway so it wasn’t a stretch for him to accept Loki's words. He might've only met Odin briefly but he hadn't gotten the impression he hated his youngest son. Still, Loki had raised valid points. And from this angle, it did look rather suspicious. In any case, Odin could still feel sorry for all the mistakes he made with Loki, he could even love his adopted son in his own fashion, but neither one of those facts precluded him from having an ulterior motive.

"So he's up to something," Bucky concluded. "Now what?"

"I might've come across some information from a trusted source," Loki hedged. "I know where we need to go to get answers."

"And…"

"Ahvenanmaa."

"Huh?"

"It's one of the rim worlds."

"What's a rim world?" Would it kill the guy to stop talking without actually saying anything?

"You know about Yggdrasil and the World Tree's branches?"

Bucky nodded. He might not be too familiar with Norse mythology but he knew bits and pieces. Besides, it wasn’t really mythology anymore, now was it?

"There is Niflheim where the frost giants live. Then there is Helheim, the domain of the dead, Svartalfeheim, the land of the dark elves, Jotunheim, Midgard, Vanaheim, Asgard, Alfheim, the land of the light elves, and Muspell," Loki explained. "Those are the core branches, if you so will, of Yggdrasil. Like any tree, there are more than just a few thick branches. There are smaller ones, fragile ones…new ones…these places are what we usually refer to as rim worlds. Some are almost as old as creation, some are fairly new, and some have already broken off."

"And Ahvenanmaa is a world on one of the outer branches then," Bucky concluded. "OK, how do we get there then? I don’t think Heimdall is going to transport us. Wait a minute," Bucky frowned. "Why can't he just pop us back to New York, or at least take us somewhere more pleasant?"

"Do you honestly want Thor with us right now?" Loki challenged. "He'd only try to get you back to your friends so you can reconcile. He's got a bleeding heart, he won't listen to reason. He might even try to stop us from reaching Ahvenanmaa."

"You're using your magic to block Heimdall's sight," Bucky announced. Why hadn't he thought of this sooner?

Loki shrugged. "I might be nearly tapped out, but I got enough juice left to shield myself and you."

"So we're stuck here until you're fully charged up. And then how are we going to get to another realm? Somehow I doubt you can just teleport us there."

Loki's look could only be described as approving. "There are spells we can use. Won't be pleasant, but they'll get us there."

Of course, more magic. Bucky really should've known. He settled back against the stones. "Can't you make a fire?"

"Out of what?" Loki snapped. "I can't conjure things up out of nothing. Everything has to come from somewhere."

"Magic us some wood," Bucky told him, sounding just a little bit exasperated. "Then light it on fire." He underlined his explanation with a wave of his hand.

"The wood out there is wet," Loki countered. "And I'd rather not think of any random dry tree to get a few logs of wood. Might accidentally tear down a house or something. Besides, I really would like to converse my energy. You can handle the cold."

Bucky wanted to argue with all he had. He really did. He might be able to handle the cold and the damp but he didn’t want to. Loki though looked mulish enough for Bucky to know he was fighting a losing battle.

Instead, he settled for making himself as small as possible to conserve heat. So much for all powerful magic user in any case.

##

"What happened between you and Thor?"

"I don’t know what you're talking about," Loki deflected. He was flexing his fingers, staring intently at them as if they held the meaning of life.

"You seemed at ease with each other," Bucky wasn’t going to let this drop, not this easily at least.

"Drop it," Loki snarled. "It doesn’t concern you."

For once Bucky listened to the tiny voice in the back of his head. Loki might've fathered him, might consider him under his protection, but no one said anything about not getting beaten to within an inch of his life for annoying him.

Then something occurred to him. "Does Odin know you're even alive?" There were so many more questions he wanted to have answered. If Loki had been on one of those rim worlds, how had he met Thor? Why would Thor have gone to those faraway places? What had happened between them?

Loki answered by whirling a stone at his head. Bucky barely managed to duck in time. "Your magic is back."

Loki gave him one more withering look before he got up. "Let's get this started," he said. "Come here."

"You allergic to questions or something?" Bucky asked. He knew he was standing on dangerous ground. However, he seriously doubted Loki would do him permanent damage. And a little pain was good for soul, right?

"You incapable of shutting up?" Loki asked in return. "Come here," Loki repeated, waving him over. It's time to go."

Bucky would've loved to continue their conversation but some lingering sense of self-preservation urged him not to. He could always revisit the topic later on. And he would be lying if he didn’t admit to be at least a bit excited about going off planet again. It might be a flaw in his genetic makeup, but he did love the thrill of danger. And without Steve's calming influence there wasn’t anyone here to rein him in.

If Asgard, and the other 8 realms, were the center of Yggdrasil, what were the rim worlds going to be like? He doubted they would be shining example of innovation and technology. He practically itched with the need to discover, to know it all. He'd always been curious, and what more could there possibly be than to go somewhere no man had ever gone before?

Why did that line remind him of something? He couldn’t follow the train of thought due to a strange tingling sensation in his limbs. Loki had his wrist in a vice grip, nearly breaking his bones, while he was chanting something Bucky didn’t understand. He didn’t need to understand though to know it was working. The air was shimmering around them, as if the world around them was a Fata Morgana, about to dissolve if looked at too closely. The tingling in his body got worse, turning into the sensation of ants crawling all over him.

Then, from one second to the next, everything vanished and re-appeared. Only they weren’t in the cave any more.

Hot wind brushed his hair out of his face as he gasped for breath. Dry, almost too hot to stomach air entered his lungs, making him cough. He wiped some sweat off his brow before looking around.

Around them was nothing but cropped rock, dust, and possibly sand. The stone was bright red, reminding Bucky of freshly spilled blood.

"This is the Weeping Valley," Loki explained.

Bucky didn’t want to know why the bloody valley had received its name.

"This way," Loki gave him a little shove. "We aren’t too far away from town."

They'd barely taken a few steps when all hell broke loose around them. Literally. Rocks were flying, sizzling, dissolving, and sand turned into glass. Without any visible enemy to fight, the Winter Solder was useless. Instead he grabbed Loki by the scruff of his neck, like one would do with a wayward kitten, and hauled him towards the red rocks.

As they got closer, Bucky realized what was blinding his eyes. There were people up there, and whatever they were using was giving off a reflection in the sun light. Well, people he could deal with. He dropped the squirming Loki, ignoring the curses hurled at his head. If he'd really wanted to get out of his grip, he could've always used magic.

SHIELD might've restricted his use of weapons, but he wasn’t without means. If they'd thought he would leave the tower without arming himself, then they clearly weren't as smart as they thought they were. Breaking the lock on gun cabinet had been easy.

He might not be a wiz with tech like Tony Stark was, but breaking and entering he could do in his sleep. JARVIS, for whatever reason, had turned a blind eye too. Maybe the AI was far more understanding than anyone ever gave it credit for.

With one fluid move, he reached for his gun. He took aim as he flung himself to the ground. The first shot found its target almost dead on. Even lying flat on his stomach, all odds against him, he was still an excellent marks man.

Loki wasn’t just sitting idly by either. He was doing something which illicited a few pained shouts from whoever was hiding behind the rocks. Bucky didn’t even need to look at him to know the guy was still not back to his old shape. He, however, doubted his current loss of power had anything to do with transporting Bucky and himself to a cave. Whatever had happened to Loki, must have resulted in a serious depletion of his power. It put them at a great disadvantage, especially since Bucky wasn’t so sure Loki understood the meaning of holding back, or working with a disadvantage.

Not that Bucky could fault him for that…must be a family trait then.

A strange sound caught his attention. Bucky's whirled around, glancing behind him. He had to sit up in order to squint against the blinding sunlight. When his eyes adjusted, he was just in time to see something flying towards them.

"Bomb!" he yelled, unsure what else to call the flying object.

Loki abandoned whatever he'd been muttering in favor of throwing himself on Bucky. They went both down again, this time with Bucky uncomfortably pressed into the ground and with Loki holding him down.

Seconds later, the ground shook, the world exploded, and he knew no more.

##

When he woke up, he was alone in a cell.

_Brilliant_ , he thought. He and Loki were so going to have words.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!

Bucky flicked a piece of gravel towards the wall. He then scratched at the rugged ground to produce a few more pieces. When he was satisfied, he played _let's hit the wall again_. It might not be a very riveting game but it passed the time.

The door opened with a creak. He lazily lifted his head. During the hours, days, years, he spent in this cell, lots of scenarios had gone through his head. A few had been quite hilarious in their implausibility.

Realistically, he couldn’t have been imprisoned more than a few hours since, apart from feeling quite thirsty, he was fine. Still, time passed differently when you had nothing to do. Being locked up without any means of looking outside might honestly drive a man insane eventually. There were only so many things he could imagine before he completely forgot where his dream world started and the real world ended.

Out of all possibilities, a surprise attack on his part had been his favorite. Sadly, without having any information, the so called surprise attack might also be labeled as a suicide mission.

He preferred violence over any other method, though, since it seemed more honest to him. Regardless of his preferences, he'd been trained well in other methods too. Steve would've been hopeless at it, he thought wistfully. Sure, Steve was gorgeous in his blond, blue eyed way. However, no one in their right mind would ever consider him harmless. He was too well built, too strong looking for it.

Bucky on the other hand did have the option to play to his _strengths_. He might be well defined, without an ounce of fat on his body, but his overall physique was more on the slender side of things. Kind of like Loki, he mused.

Still, his looks could be deceiving since he was quite deadly even without any sort of weapon. In any case, the point of this mental exercise was that he could fool people into thinking he was nothing to worry about.

Sometimes, if the other party was interested, he could even go a step further: seduction. Apparently there were quite a few men and women who found it captivating to break through his supposed bravado. They never realized it had all been a show until it was too late. There was almost something mesmerizing when awareness settled in their eyes right before he killed them.

He cleared his throat. Maybe those memories shouldn’t really be so pleasant.

He allowed himself to stare at the men entering his cell, going for a wide eyed look. Loki's reputation might've preceded him but no one here knew about Bucky Barnes or the Winter Soldier. They might only see someone harmless…maybe. If he could lull them into a sense of security, then they might make mistakes. It was a long shot but what else did he have going for him?

And where the hell was Loki anyway?

When one guy stepped forward, Bucky made a show out of flinching, curling in on himself. If the situation hadn’t been this dire, the whole show might've actually been amusing.

Dark eyes stared at him, assessing him, and hopefully coming to the wrong conclusion. "Take him," the leader ordered.

Bucky knew he could take those two men, render them unconscious in under five seconds. The reason why he refrained from acting on his impulse to strike out was quite simple. He had no clue where he was, or how many other soldiers were about. He might be able to take out the two guards and their leader, but then what?

He struggled in their firm grasp, pretending to try to get free and failing miserably. They dragged him along a short corridor before entering yet another dingy room. Seriously, had they built this entire complex out of stone, mud and random stuff? The walls were sturdy, Bucky had tried clawing his way out after all. On the other hand, they weren’t above crumbling bit by bit. Conclusion: given enough time he could probably lick his way free. His tongue would however never forgive him.

They shoved him onto a chair, twisting his arms behind his back before tying them up securely. They left his legs free which might prove to be an oversight on their part.

"Where is it?" the guy Bucky had labeled their leader asked.

This time Bucky didn’t even have to try to act confused. "I don’t know what you're talking about," he answered.

The guy leaned in closer, invading Bucky's space. "Don't play games with me, Asgardian. I know you have it. I want to know where it is. It doesn’t belong to you!"

Bucky's mouth gaped open. "I'm not," he started to say but he didn’t get very far. Something cold got pressed against his neck. Seconds later, mind numbing agony travelled through his body on swift wings. Being thrown into a lava pit couldn’t have been any worse.

When the pain vanished, he slumped forward. The only reason he didn’t slide off the chair were the ropes holding him back. His breathing was labored. Tears were trickling down his face.

"I can do this all day," the leader pleasantly informed him. "You people have interfered long enough. This ends here."

Bucky barely heard the words. They washed over him without meaning.

When the cold instrument was pressed against his neck again, he jerked forward, trying to twist away. "No!" he yelled, not having to fake any kind of pleading on his part.

The door suddenly exploded. Bits and pieces floated into the room. One rather sharp and pointy shrapnel hit one of the guards in the neck. Lucky shot or careful planning? Trajectories could be very useful if one knew how to calculate the impact, vectors etc. Then, Loki sauntered into the room as if he owned the place. Dirty smudges on his face only made his appearance all the more daunting.

With a flick of his hand, the second guard flew against the wall. When he landed on the round, he didn’t move.

"How dare you lay a hand on my son?" Loki snarled. Was this what barely controlled fury looked like? If so, Bucky was very impressed.

While Loki focused on the leader, Bucky started to twist his wrists. The ropes might appear to be secure, but there was always wiggle room. The ropes were tight, but they weren’t expertly made. It didn’t take him long enough to get free. He ignored his bloody wrists since the pain honestly couldn’t compare to what he had endured before.

"I'm sorry," the man babbled, looking quite pitiful. "But you got to understand, we need it back!"

The look of confusion on Loki's face spoke volumes.

"Don’t kill him yet," Bucky stepped in front of the leader. "I want to know what's going on here."

Loki gave a curt nod. He didn’t seem pleased about it but he knew Bucky was right. Bucky turned, leveling an icy glare on his former captor.

"Now," he drawled, "why don’t you tell me exactly what you think we've taken? And start at the beginning, please." There wasn’t anything polite about the way he pronounced _pleased_ and the guy knew it.

Bucky watched as he swallowed hard.

"Our crystal was stolen a few nights ago. You know what this means! Without it, we are dead!"

Surely the guy was being dramatic, right?

A quick glance at Loki confirmed that he knew what the guy was referring to. "What's so special about this crystal?" Bucky asked. He ignored the incredulous look the leader shot him.

Without taking his eyes of the man, Loki answered Bucky's question. "Remember when I explained about the World Tree and its branches?"

Bucky nodded.

"Legend has it that any new world has a crystal. It's the heart of the realm, so to speak. Legend also says that in the 9 realms, the heart has already merged with the world and the people living on it. But in the outer realms this hasn’t happened yet. Furthermore, it is said that every rim world is connected thanks to the crystals. Just like the older realms are connected."

The leader nodded. "Yes," he added. "No one in living memory has witnessed a crystal vanishing, but ten generations ago, it was recorded how our crystal mourned the passing of a world."

How a bloody crystal could mourn anything was beyond Bucky. Now, though, wasn’t the time for snarky comments.

"Shouldn’t you have protected the gem?" Loki accused the man. "I've never seen one myself, but it would stand to reason you would take great care of it."

"We did!" the leader insisted.

The way Loki tilted his head spoke volumes. Bucky almost snorted.

"It's Odin," the still nameless guy spat. "We're sick and tired of being left to starve. Why can't we trade with the rest like any of the other 9 realms? Why are only you supposed to live in riches while we are begging for scraps?"

Bucky didn’t need to look at Loki to know the 9 realms weren’t really as well off as they guy thought they were. Still, there might be a point in there somewhere.

"What makes you think Odin took it?" Loki asked, his voice a bit too quite.

"We've been organizing," the leader answered. "It's not like we're stupid enough to attack any of the 9 realms," he hastily added. "However, if we provide a united front, it should make our lives easier."

"And this also made you a danger," Loki finished. He sent Bucky a meaningful look. This could very well be why they were here.

"You might not stand a chance against the might of Asgard, but you could send the whole world order in disarray. You would threaten the status quo."

"Loki Odinson would know," the leader hissed.

Loki took a few steps towards the man. Bucky stepped up behind him to stop the guy from retreating further.

"Is this why you attacked me and my son?" he asked in a velvety tone of voice. "Because you think I'm the son of Odin?"

"She gave me your name. She told me you were coming to meet with her. What else was I supposed to think? We need the crystal back."

"But why…" Loki abruptly paused. "I see," he slowly said. "As you said, the crystals are all connected. If Odin were to send a mighty surge through the connection, he could destroy all of them."

"He would kill us all!" the leader practically screeched. "And for what? Just because we want to be accepted and no longer be ignored? We are a part of Yggdrasil just like any of the 9 realms!"

"What did you do with Winnifred?" Loki snarled, his handsome face momentarily contorting into a terrible mask.

The guy spluttered. "We didn’t kill her."

"Where is she?"

"We gave her to a slave trader. He promised to take good care of her."

Bucky wasn’t quick enough to react when Loki lashed out. Blood splattered across his clothes from where Loki had used his magic to cut into the man's torso.

"Tell me everything," Loki demanded.

And the guy did.

##

Hours later they were outside again under the baking sun. "What now?" Bucky asked. "Do you want to go after you friend?"

Loki shook his head. "There is no way of knowing where Winnifred is right now. She could've been sold to anyone. It will take time to locate her."

"Can't you do a locating spell or something?"

Loki gave Bucky a droll look. "Magic might seem all powerful but it is no miracle cure. Just like with your science, it follows certain rules. I can't find someone without having something that holds a meaningful connection to that person."

"You'll go after her though, right?"

"Yes," Loki confirmed. "But it will have to wait. Winnifred is resourceful, she will stay alive."

"What is she to you anyway?"

"She is one of the scavengers who found me. She's the reason why I'm still alive. I owe her a great debt."

They walked in silence after that announcement. When they approached the same spot where they had materialized, Bucky had another question. "Why can't we just do the spell from anywhere?"

Loki sighed. "I don’t have my full strength yet. It will be easier for me to work another spell on familiar ground."

Bucky wanted to ask what exactly had happened for Loki to be running this low on magic but he decided against it. 

"Where are we going?"

"Asgard."

"You can't be serious," Bucky almost yelled. "You want to steal the crystal from Odin? Surely, it will be locked in some kind of vault by now."

"He can't be allowed to go through with this plan," Loki declared, giving Bucky a look that was both haughty and nasty at the same time.

"I agree," Bucky hastily added. "But are you sure he will really condemn all the outer realms to death just to preserver his way of living?"

Loki stopped so he could face Bucky. "Odin is a great warrior. He defeated my people and took their power source. Without it, Jotunheim became an icy wasteland. The only reason we survived is because we know how to manipulate water and ice."

It was _we_ now, Bucky noted.

"He is perfectly capable of condemning an entire race if it suits his needs. And there will definitely be those who would sing his praises. The rim worlds are many. If they truly were to unite, they might actually pose a serious threat."

"I thought Asgard had powerful warriors…" Bucky pointed out.

"True," Loki easily answered. "But if the entire rim worlds were to rise up, their numbers would be far greater. And no one really knows anything about them. I have been to only a few places, and they all appear to be like this. But who is to say there isn’t a more advanced realm out there somewhere? Odin isn’t going to want to run the risk of actually having to welcome other players into his fold. Right now, Asgard holds all the power. Why should he give it up?"

"He would claim his actions were for the greater good," Bucky concluded. How he hated that phrase. Nothing good ever came out of it.

"But if we somehow manage to steal the crystal back, what's to keep Odin from snatching another one?"

"I don’t know," Loki admitted. "I've got an idea, but I need to look at a few texts in the library."

"Great," Bucky muttered. They were going to Asgard to get their asses killed.

"Don't fret," Loki patted him on the shoulder as if the gesture would reassure Bucky the plan wasn’t as crazy as it sounded. "Between the two of us, they won't know what hit them until it is too late."

_Great_ , Bucky muttered. Now he could add delusions of grandeur to his ever growing list of things to worry about. What if that trait was genetic? He could just see Steve looking at him with…lust?

_Steve on his knees while Bucky looked down on him. His lush lips stretch arounds Bucky's thick cock…_

Well, there might be some benefits to the idea after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the delay. I got the whole thing planned out but I got somewhat confused with the middle. I am really sorry!

Red, gold, and some atrocious yellow, assaulted his senses. For a few seconds, disorientation won.

"Loki!" Thor's excited yell, however, cleared up any confusion Bucky might've still felt. A quick glance to Loki confirmed his suspicion. While Loki had intended for them to arrive in Asgard, materializing in Thor's private chambers hadn't been part of the plan.

If Bucky needed any further prove that Loki's magic was on the fritz, then this would be it.

They might not be siblings by blood but they clearly were siblings when it came to fighting.

Bucky inched away, not wanting to be caught in the cross fire. From the looks of things, the squabbling might take a while. Should he wait? Enjoy the entertainment?

No, he decided, if he stayed the chances were pretty good one of them would feel the need to include him. And he had enough sense left to try and avoid such a horrific event.

There was one thing...Bucky chewed on his lower lip. The plan might yield no fruit but it was most certainly better than standing around here.

He quietly left the room. It took him a few wrong turns until he found his way again. Asgard might be big, but it was easy to navigate once one found a few key spots. It didn't take him long to reach Heimdall.

"Welcome James Buchanan Barnes Lokison," Heimdall greeted him formally.

Bucky waved at him, feeling oddly self-conscious about the gesture yet still unable to help himself. "Call me Bucky," he offered.

Heimdall regally inclined his head.

"I'm sure you've heard, or seen," he added after a short pause as he remembered who he was talking to. "What Odin is up to. He stole a gem from one of the rim worlds. He intends to use it to destroy all of those worlds."

His voice might've cracked a little bit at the end because he couldn't quite wrap his head around the concept of destroying whole planets. He clearly was playing in a very different league than he was used to.

"My loyalty is, as always, to Asgard," Heimdall simply stated. His mesmerizing gaze seemed to bore holes into Bucky's skull.

He swallowed hard. "You haven't told Odin then about our arrival?" he carefully asked. If he'd understood the man correctly then he might've just found them a rather invaluable ally!

"I have not," Heimdall confirmed.

Since it apparently was clear the guy wasn't going to offer things up on his own, Bucky continued. Nothing to lose, only to gain, right?

"We need to stop Odin. Regardless of his reasons, destroying countless worlds, killing so many people, can't be in anyone's interest."

Heimdall stayed silent. Was this a good sign?

"I understand the fear of change," Bucky continued. "I don't know enough about the worlds on Yggdrasil to make any judgment, but surely there are things that can be done without bloodshed. The 9 worlds wouldn't thank anyone if Odin dragged them into a war."

"War rarely serves a purpose," Heimdall agrees. "If you are looking for the crystal, you might like to know it is currently in Odin's chambers. The Allfather is preparing a spell to send through it."

Bucky gasped. They were out of time! "Can you tell Loki and Thor what's happening and to meet me there?" he asked, already on his way out.

He didn't wait for an answer. He was closer to Odin chambers than the others were. There was no time to waste, or to second guess what he could possibly do to stop Odin from launching his attack. 

However, doing nothing wasn't really an option.

Maybe crazy people running through the corridors was a common occurrence on Asgard because he hardly got any angry stares. No one dared to stop him either.

He burst through the door into Odin's chambers as if hell hounds were yapping at his heels. Surprise was really his only chance. His breathing came in sharp gasps but he was a long cry away from being too winded to fight. Experience taught him to take in multiple things at once. So it was no stretch for him to scan the room for other threats while focusing on Odin.

The older Asgardian stood by a huge bowl, a slightly pinkish glittering stone in the palm of his hand. For something this important, the stone sure as hell looked rather meek and unassuming.

"Put that down," Bucky commanded. He had no clue how to back up his words. If he managed to stall Odin long enough for Thor and Loki to get here...but could he? Well, no one else seemed to be volunteering for the job, so he best do all he could.

Odin slowly turned. Bucky couldn't help but think the whole gesture look as if he'd learned it from some how-to-be-a-villain guide book. Did such a thing exist? And if not, maybe someone should write it?

He shook his head. Focus!

"You can't stop me," Odin calmly informed him. "This is for the good of Asgard."

Bucky narrowed his eyes. He had to keep him talking. If he did, then he wasn't doing any spells.

"Oh, please," Bucky waved him off, taking a few steps towards the man. "How could making every soul on Asgard complicit in a mass murder serve anyone?"

"You don't have the foresight to understand what is at stake here," Odin countered. "The rim worlds need to be taught a lesson. This one they won't forget any time soon."

"Everyone will know it was you though," Bucky pointed out. "I don't think you would want your reputation as fair and wise ruler to be tarnished, right? I mean," he waved at the stone. "Isn't this the cowardly route?"

Odin's eyes flashed. Then it dawned on Bucky. "You weren't going to take the credit for this plan of yours," he slowly spoke the words as the information settled down in his mind. He swallowed hard. "You're planning to put this on me. This is why you were so interested in me, why you pretended you cared about me. You thought, since I am Loki's son, no one would doubt your word if I did something this terrible."

Before Odin could react to Bucky's words, Bucky flung himself at the guy. Reason fled the building. By sheer surprise, he managed to get close enough to Odin to knock the crystal out of the palm of his hand. It sailed through the air, landing somewhere far behind them.

He'd balled his fingers into a tight fist, ready to strike, but he didn't get close enough to attempt anything.

With the mere flick of a hand, he was flung backwards. His back collided with the wall, sending him crumbling to the ground. Before the pain of his bruised ribs could register, Odin held out his hand. Lightning erupted from the tips of his fingers, engulfing Bucky in a heat of pain.

The shock waves coursed through his body. He twisted and turned, no longer really aware of what was happening all around him. He fought, he didn't know how not to, but there wasn't really anything he could do when every nerve ending of his body was screaming in agony.

When it all suddenly stopped, the total absence of pain was even worth.

"Bucky?" Someone might've spoken his name, he couldn't be sure. The white noise of nothing engulfed him, dragging him down into a seemingly never ending abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...anyone managed to get this far? Anyone still reading it after such a long pause?


	10. Chapter 10

Snippets came back to his as he was floating on a heavenly cloud. He must've been partially awake even though everyone must've assumed he was out cold. Or maybe he'd been hallucinating?

_Nah_ , he decided, _definitely for real._

Thor stormed into the room at the same time as Loki. For a few second, it seemed as if the two of them might get stuck in the door. Loki immediately hurled a spell of sorts at his adoptive father. 

Nothing happened. Odin simply lifted one hand, and, presumably, countered Loki's spell without much effort.

Loki then left the battle to Thor, hurrying towards Bucky. He crouched down beside him, anxiously calling his name.

Behind him, the room exploded. Loki turned his head, and then, everything really did go white.

##

"You're just like Loki," Thor groaned when Bucky complained again.

"As if you're any better with bed rest," Loki replied in a huff.

Bucky couldn't quite contain his amusement.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Your doctors said so."

"Healers," Loki corrected. "And they also said you'll be weak for a few weeks yet. You need to take it easy. If you overdo it, you might do yourself some serious harm."

Bucky ignored him. "You still haven't exactly told me what actually happened to me," he changed the subject. "I mean, I seem to recall you two bursting into the room...and Thor did something...something exploded?"

"You actually remember that?" Thor asked, his voice incredulous. "I thought you were unconscious."

Bucky shrugged. "So?" he prompted again.

"I might've accidentally hit the crystal," Thor mumbled.

Bucky stared. It couldn't be. "You destroyed the crystal?" he nearly screamed.

"Of course not," Loki quickly injected. "The darn thing is a bit more sturdy than you give it credit for. It sort of bounced, sent a shock wave through the room, and Thor, for once quick on his feet, knocked Odin out."

Bucky swallowed hard. For a few seconds there he'd thought they won and lost at the same time. He'd killed so many people as the Winter Solider, wrecked so many lives, but somehow he'd been able to dissociate himself from his actions. However, if he'd been responsible, even indirectly, for annihilating worlds...he honestly had no clue if he would be able to live with such a burden.

Even believing it to be true for a few seconds had nearly stopped his heart.

"My father wasn't in his right mind," Thor went on to explain.

Loki huffed. "You, brother-mine," he drawled. "Have a tendency to sugar coat things."

Thor gave Loki a stern look. "Our father should've entered the Odin sleep a long while ago. He chose not to because he felt there was too much to do."

"Don't blame me for this!" Loki hissed, all humor gone from his voice.

Thor looked puzzled for a few seconds as if he had no clue why Loki would think such a thing. "No, you aren't responsible for it," he said eventually, making sure to make eye contact with Loki. Bucky could only stare, wondering what it would be like to have such a connection with another being.

"He used excuse after excuse to stay awake instead of doing what should be done. When mother died, well, revenge consumed him. He stayed awake way past the point of no return. It warped his mind..."

"So you think a little bit of sleep is going to cure him?" Bucky asked. He couldn't believe it. Sure, Asgard wasn't Earth, they weren't human, but really?

"It should," Thor confirmed. Before Loki could possibly protest, Thor quickly continued. "However, I have informed the council of Odin's actions. I had no other choice. I am the ruler in his absence. And when he wakes up, he will be evaluated by our healers. Rest assured, he will not be allowed to continue on this destructive path."

Bucky finally allowed himself to sink back into the lush cushions. He hadn't even realized he'd been leaning forward during this tale.

"I want to go home," he suddenly burst out. Surprised by his own outburst, he said nothing for a few seconds. "I mean," he quickly scrambled to add when Loki looked oddly hurt. "I've got a few things that I need to tie up back home. There's the matter with Steve...and I've got a life there..."

"You're always welcome here," Thor assured him. He placed a hand onto Loki shoulder. Bucky watched as something unspoken passed between them.

Eventually, Loki spoke again. "I would like to get to know you better. You are my son after all."

Before Bucky could reply, he continued. "However, there is time."

"Time?" Bucky echoed. "Will I outlive everyone I know?" He couldn't quite hide the panic in his voice. Living for centuries really didn't appeal to him, not if it meant he would have to lose everyone he cared about.

"We don't know," Loki answered. "You're part Jotun, part human, and part other. I'm sure you have a longer life span than what is considered normal for humans, but if it matches ours? I don't know."

Bucky swallowed hard. Then something occurred to him. "What about Steve? He's got the serum too. Shouldn't he be living longer too?"

"Possibly," Loki confirmed. "It is hard to tell. This will simply be one of those things where we will have to wait and see. Either way, you should sort out your old life. Take it from me, it is never good to leave things hanging. I think..." Loki cast a quick glance towards Thor before he continued, "I think we'll join in a little while. I did enjoy visiting Earth back when I met your mother..."

"When you weren't out to overtake the planet you mean?" Bucky asked.

Loki didn't deign him with an answer. He simply narrowed his eyes and looked evil.

"Bah," Bucky actually waved at him. "I know you too well. That look isn't working on me anymore."

Loki's glare intensified.

"About going home," Bucky looked at Thor again. "I know I need to take it easy, but there is no reason I can't do it on Earth. Being confined to the room here is simply driving me insane."

"All right," Thor agreed. "Loki has informed me that you should have sufficient control on your magic so I don't see any reason why shouldn't be allowed to leave."

Over the past two weeks, Loki had spent every single day with him, trying to teach him how to work with what Bucky had named his ice magic. He seemed to be able to manipulate water...this was how he'd created the little storm back on Earth, or how he'd frozen things over.

It was tied to his emotions, especially strong emotions, which seemed to always come up when Steve was involved. And regardless of what he might think of the man, Bucky had no intention of freezing Steve Rogers.

"Super," Bucky replied with a smile. "How about I leave this evening? After dinner?"

Everyone agreed.

##

This time Heimdall landed him on the rooftop of the Avenger Tower. Or was it Stark Tower? Had the name been decided yet? Either way, this was where he surfaced. JARVIS of course greeted him instantly, informing him that the others have been apprised of his arrival.

He waited, trying not to fidget too much. Would they lock him up? They hadn't really imprisoned him for being the Winter Soldier, but would the same leniency apply to the son who tried to conquer the world? Surely they wouldn't hold him responsible for his father's sins...but then again, being Loki's son and recently brainwashed might put a whole new spin on everything.

"Welcome back," Tony greeted him.

Bucky only smiled.

"Come on, I won't bite..." Then, as if he couldn't help himself, Tony added, "Unless you want me to?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Not now, Stark...maybe later?"

Tony only snorted as if he'd just told an excellent joke.

"Is it only you? Where are the others?" he asked he followed Tony into the elevator.

"Natasha and Legolas are on a mission," Tony answered. "Bruce is in his lab, and Steve is out."

Unsure how to answer, or to break the settling silence, Bucky only nodded.

"This way," Tony led him into an office.

"You have an office?" he couldn't help him asking.

"I know, right?" Tony grinned like the maniac he was. "I couldn't believe it either! But Pepper insisted that we do this here when you come back. And I never cross Pepper. Oh no, I know better than that." Tony leaned in, as if he was about to impart a great secret. "I'm a genius, you know..."

Bucky snorted. The guy sure as hell was funny. And it helped to ease his nerves. He swallowed hard.

"Sit," Tony pointed towards a chair. "JARVIS?" he then asked, tilting his head slightly upwards. "Do you have Fury on the line?"

"I'm here, Stark," Fury barked. Seconds later the video screen on the wall flared to life. "I see Barnes has made it back. In one piece as well I take it?"

Was this his way of asking if he was unharmed? Why would he care anyway?

"I'm fine," Bucky answered nonetheless. Since no one said anything else, Bucky decided to get the ball rolling. "Look, I'm sorry I wasn't up front about being Loki's son. I honestly didn't know myself."

"When did you find out?" Fury answered calmly. Somehow this made the whole situation worse. Bucky would've rather been yelled at. Calm and controlled made him nervous.

"When Thor took me to Asgard."

"After the kidnapping?" Tony clarified.

Bucky nodded. "Can you honestly say if you'd learned such a thing you would've come clean about it? No offense, but I didn't know you guys. You've been pretty understanding about my past as the Winter Soldier, but I didn't really want to test the waters by adding being Loki's son to the mix."

For a few seconds no one said anything.

"We are not in the habit of holding the sins of the father against the son," Fury eventually said. "However," he added, "Considering your parentage, you can't honestly be surprised when I tell you that we will keep a close eye on you."

"The deal is then still in place?" Bucky needed to be certain.

"It is," Fury confirmed.

"Believe me," Tony injected. "I was all prepared to argue your case. For once, though, One-Eye and I actually agreed on one thing. I sure as hell thought the world was coming to an end."

From the expression on Fury's face, the guy felt quite similar.

"You still prepared to fulfill our previous agreement?" the Director inquired.

"Yes." What other answer could there be?

Bucky was pretty certain he was probably never going to be released now. He'd be in mandatory therapy, living in the tower under JARVIS supervision until the end of all time. However, over all, it was a pretty sweet deal. And he did have an out, should he ever needed it. He could always call for help from Asgard.

"Now," Fury continued. "What happened?"

For a few seconds, Bucky wasn't so sure if he should tell them everything. Then again, if Thor and Loki hadn't wanted him to inform Earth that Loki was free, they would've said so, right?

In the end he decided to tell them everything. After all, they'd been pretty good to him so far, it wouldn't do to repay their efforts with more lies. Not when it could be helped.

##

He hovered in front of the gym for a few seconds before he pushed the door open. He was no coward. He wasn't going to stark now, least of well where it concerned Steve.

As JARVIS had informed him, Steve was in the gym decimating punching bags.

"Hasn't Tony designed something for you yet that you can't kill with one punch?" he asked.

Steve didn't stop. Instead, he made a show out of destroying the bag. Bucky cringed. With his chin held high he approached.

Steve unhooked the bag, dumping it on the floor. Then he turned to face Bucky.

"You're back."

"Didn't JARVIS tell you?" Bucky asked in return.

Steve stayed silent.

"Look..." Bucky started to say but Steve interrupted him. "I don't want to hear it?"

Bucky blinked. He hadn't expected that. "What?"

"You didn't trust me."

"What?" Bucky might feel as if he was stuck on repeat but something wasn't tracking here. He didn't follow.

"How could you think I would cheat on _you_?" Steve said with his heat. His eyes were blazing. For a few seconds, Bucky could only blink.

"I saw you..." he weakly stuttered. Then, he straightened up. "You went from being in bed with me to kissing a woman. What did you think would happen?"

"I would've thought you would know I wouldn't betray you like that," Steve snapped back.

"Then explain it to me!"

"I shouldn't have to!"

They glared at each other. Bucky watched as Steve took a deep breath. He rubbed his chin. "Look," Steve said slowly. "The girl you saw me with was Lilly Carter. She's a distant relative to Peggy. We met a few times...she told me about Peggy, showed me pictures. When I left you that morning, it was to go to her to tell her all about you."

"You kissed her," Bucky somewhat lamely repeated.

"I did. But it wasn't as if I was I was kissing her like a lover. It was a simple good bye. I would've never thought you would jump to conclusion. Or at least know me well enough to confront me and ask me about it. Instead..."

Something dawn on Bucky. He might've, well, there was no might about it. He had misjudged what he'd seen but he wasn't the only one who had done wrong.

"You still think of me as Bucky," he slowly said as the thoughts crystalized into form.

"You are Bucky," Steve replied.

"I'm not the man you knew," Bucky replied with force. He took a few steps closer to Steve who stood his ground. "The old me would've probably come to you for an explanation before jumping to conclusions. I'm not that person any more. I trusted you as far as I was capable. Then, I wake up to you kissing someone on national TV. Excuse me when I wasn't in the mood to have a rational conversation about it."

Steve stared. "So this is it?"

"Look," Bucky slowly grounded out. "You were frozen in the ice. Sure, you've adapted to the new world, but you're still you more or less. And I'm not."

"But..." Steve objected. Bucky didn't let him.

"No," he insisted. "I have my old memories. I know who I used to be. But I also remember what I did as the Winter Soldier. I remember being used, being betrayed, and handled like an object. The old me would've confronted you and asked for an explanation. But not me. I don't have that capability of trust anymore."

"So what are you saying?"

"We were both wrong..."

Steve looked mutinous, as if he was going to contest the point. Bucky ploughed over him. "We need to start afresh. You can't keep seeing me as the friend you've lost. And I need to get to you know again."

Steve held his eyes. His eyes were searching for something, Bucky didn't know what. Then, after what seemed an eternity, Steve finally answered. "I don't know."

The world fell away underneath Bucky's feet. He'd never contemplated what he would do if Steve actually didn't want to get to know the new him. What if Steve only cared for who he'd been? Would he be able to handle the rejection of someone who held such a big place in his heart?

"You're right," Steve eventually said. "I don't know you anymore. But you also don't know me. I've done things, seen things...after you died...we really shouldn't have assumed..."

Bucky didn't want to hear more. Rejection didn't have to be explained. A simple no was answer enough.

His feet nearly faltered on the way to the door. Hell, he couldn't even recall running, and yet, here he was.

"Bucky!" Steve yelled after him. He caught up with him, grabbed him by the shoulder and more or less flung him around.

Bucky didn't much care for being manhandled like that. He lashed out, sending Steve flying.

His exhaustion was momentarily forgotten. Adrenalin flooded his body, making him see clearly, making everything work at the top of its game. Loki's warning to take it easy, to relax and not overwork himself was long forgotten in the heat of the moment.

The chill in the air didn't quite register with him at first. He was so caught up in matching Steve, giving as good as he got, that he didn't even notice the sheen of ice starting to coat the walls and the floor.

Sharp pain exploded in his face. The world stopped. Slowly, as if everything had seriously been halted, everything tilted. He stumbled. For a few seconds it appeared to him as if he was hanging in the air, then he crashed to the ground.

Darkness slowly crept in around the edges, slowly dimming his view until he could barely see straight.

The loud roar in his ears was deafening, nearly drowning him in nothing but a sea of noise. The weakness in his body shocked him, but what surprised him more was how it matched with how he felt deep down in his soul.

Maybe he should've taken Loki's warning more serious after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously want to finish this before Winter Soldier comes out at the end of March. I am pretty certain new plot bunnies will then demand my attention.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I didn't make my own deadline (finishing this story before Winter Soldier comes out, and before seeing it), but I did manage to finish it!

"Why Bucky? Why?" Steve's anguished voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. Still, despite the lure, not even the raw emotion in it could persuade him to come out of the dark corner he was currently in.

It was safe there. No one was hurting him. No one was betraying him. There...there was just a kind of numbness...a numbness that was spreading the longer the stayed in the dark. But he didn't mind. After all, why should he care when no one else did?

"It is not fair," Steve exclaimed with him. "I could never do right by you! You always took care of me...always. And I never did anything right! I let you fall in the first place! And if I hadn't gone down with the plane, I would've come looking for you. And once I couldn't find a body, I would've eventually found you! I would've moved heaven and earth, you need to know that."

In the dark corner Bucky grunted. Steve's tenacity wasn't something he'd ever worried about. He'd just thought there might be more to it, more than friendship and feeling that he owed Bucky a debt.

"We made a mess of things." There was a pause, then Steve continued. "Yes, we. You are right. I can't keep looking at you and think you're the man I used to know. And you were right, I was basically in stasis while you are tortured. But you're also wrong. I've changed. So yes, we should just start anew, leave the past in the past."

Bucky could feel a soft pressure around his fingers, as if his hand was being squeezed gently. For a few seconds, he almost contemplated responding in kind. The thought fled as quickly as it had appeared.

It was safer in the dark. For everyone concerned.

"I want you in my life, Bucky. I want you, all of you. Good and bad. I would say I love you but you probably wouldn't believe me. But I do. Please wake up. I want you to give us a chance, I want you to give me a chance..."

"You're an idiot," Bucky mumbled. He couldn't help himself. As inviting as the dark was, if he had to listen to Steve ramble on for a second longer he would probably just go insane.

"Bucky!" Steve exclaimed loudly, so loudly in fact that Bucky's ears rang from it.

He blinked, slowly forcing his eyes open. He smacked his lips, wondering what the hell had happened. Oh...awareness slowly crept in. Maybe he really should've listened to Loki when he said to take it easy.

The slap to his face had him glaring up at Steve. "What did you do that for?" he slurred, not fully awake yet to muster up much more than that.

"You nearly died," Steve glared down on him.

Bucky almost shrugged. It was becoming more or less a habit of his. He probably shouldn't get used it though...

"Did you mean what you just said?"

Steve looked uncomfortable. Well, Bucky didn't like talking about _feeling_ either but he'd be dammed if they spent another second apart if that wasn't what both of them wanted.

"I love you too, you idiot. Always have," he eventually said. His eyes fluttered close again. He was so very tired. This time when Steve squeezed his hand, he squeezed right back. "I didn't know it back then, but I do now. Can we really start fresh?"

"Look what we've already accomplished without trying," Steve said with wry humor. "We should both be long dead and yet, here we still are. I think we can manage. Don't you?"

Bucky nodded. As far as declarations of undying love went, this discussion could only be described as being underwhelming. And yet, the deep, satisfied glow inside his heart could only be described as overpowering, as unyielding.

Yes, they'd come so far. They still had ways to go, many obstacles to overcome between them...and yet, for once Bucky didn't feel apprehension when he thought about the future. He felt hope.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you made it this far! Congratulations! And THANK YOU!
> 
> I hope you liked the story!
> 
> And I would also like to apologize for the long wait in between chapters. Also, the last chapter is a bit short. I am very much aware of it. I did follow my outline, but the supposed make up sex scene didn't quite make it...It felt too good to end it there, even if it turned out to be a very, VERY short chapter. I hope you guys aren't too disappointing by the lack of make up sex...thank you in any case for hanging in there!
> 
> (And if you haven't yet seen Captain America - The Winter Soldier - go see it! It is awesome!)


End file.
